Fishy Chrissy
by Warriora
Summary: The sisters and Leo go to the future first intending to stop Chris' execution and use his position to their own advantage... then they see his childhood... then they learn of his abuse. Lots of dark substance material. Have fun. COMPLETE!
1. Prolouge

**Author's note: this takes place before Chris-crossed and it's my first fanfic ever, so please bear with me :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed... or Chris... or Phoebe... or Barbas... or this keyboard I'm typing on--- hold on, I do own this keyboard , nevermind. Just start reading.**

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Prologue**

Chris sat alone in the Halliwell attic taking a short break from the strenuous demon hunting and collecting his thoughts. Just a few days ago, he and the sisters had had a nasty run in with Barbas, the demon of fear. Barbas has summoned them all, revealed what each of their worst fear was, and locked them in a playhouse version of the manor where they each had to face that fear in turn.

Chris hugged his legs to him, resting his chin on his knees as he stared into space, remembering what had happened to him and his "charges". He felt weak. Piper, Phoebe, and Paige had all overcome their worst fears, but he had been the only one holding them back with his ridiculous phobia. _No-- not ridiculous,_ he thought, slightly frustrated with himself, _they only think that because they don't know the reason behind it. _He had never meant for them to find out about that fear because he knew all the questions that would arise. Questions he had only answered for a few souls; questions that hurt to answer.

He sighed as he elicited his close call with keeping the fact that he was indeed part witch a secret. When that fear had been thrown at him he had accidentally used one of his powers - intangibility - and fallen through a wall without leaving a mark. He had hastily lied that there must have been a portal, still shaking from the encounter with his worst fear. Seeing as they had no reason not to, the sisters had believed that little fabrication.

"Hey," said a voice from the doorway. The young whitelighter looked up to see the middle sister, Phoebe, standing there looking concerned. Chris hastily threw aside his fatigue and jumped up from the war-battered couch.

"Hey, what is it?" He asked in his best I'm-an-extremely-good-whitelighter voice. Phoebe, however, ignored that and went to sit down on the couch he had just gotten up from and looked at him with that same concern.

"Chris…" she began, pulling him to sit down beside her. "I think I know why you're afraid of fish."

The boy's heart sank. _Oh. That. _"Phoebe, this isn't the ti---"

"You drowned, didn't you?" she spoke over him. "Whitelighters died-- I never thought about how you did, but that's it, isn't it?"

"Phoebe ---"

"Chris, just tell me! I can help you," the woman pleaded forcefully.

"If that was all there was to it, don't you think I'd be over it by now?" Chris snapped, unable to stop himself. "Leo doesn't freak out every time he sees an army tent, does he?"

"So you were murdered," Phoebe concluded. "Who did it? Why?"

Furious, Chris tried to orb out but Phoebe grabbed him and pulled him back, a little trick her younger sister had taught her. This time her chocolate colored eyes were soft, imploring.

"Please, Chris, I want to understand. Please."

Though the boy was wearing black sunglasses they both know their eyes were locked, and Chris couldn't help but feel the need to comply. At last he sighed, breaking their gazes.

"When I was five… my parents drown me."

It wasn't a lie… not exactly. When he was five Piper and Leo had tried to strip his powers and drown him, succeeding in binding his powers and throwing him into an icy, rushing river. It was only by the pure chance that the elder, Charity, had been alerted and saved him, clipping his first whitelighter's wings as the guardian had been in on the whole thing.

Now, whenever he saw a fish, he was forced to recall everything he had felt at that moment when water rushed past above, below, and beside him, when his consciousness was slipping away, the binds cutting deeply into his wrists and ankles. He was forced to remember the shock, the confusion, the betrayal, the raw anguish… everything.

Phoebe's mouth was slightly open as she stared at her young whitelighter, taken aback. "Oh… my… I had no-- idea…" she managed to say at last. Then, "But why? Were they--"

"Under a spell?" finished Chris for her. He laughed bitterly. "Of course not. They just never loved me."

And with that the boy orbed out, not caring whether she ran to tell her sisters or not.


	2. my chriscrossed

**Disclaimer : so depressing... me no own Charmed... **

**_Author's note:_ This is about a month and a half after the prolouge and set during Chris-crossed, but I hope you can figure that out on your own. Chris never orbed back to the manor after his encounter with Bianca therefore Leo doesn't know her name. Also, I forgot to mention this is debatably AU. And he flips a lighter (like fire kind of lighter) if I say he does. You'll find out why :) . **

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The witch-demon with cold terra cotta eyes and chestnut brown hair held the dagger to Piper's throat.

"You were saying?"

"Bianca, don't!" Chris intervened, mind racing, "Just let them go. I promise I'll go back with you if you just leave them out of this. Please, Bianca, let's just leave." He cautiously took her shoulder and pulled her away.

"Chris what are you doing?" demanded Paige. "You can't just walk away!"

"Look," he said shortly. "I don't have a choice. She stripped my powers. Now please, just go before she changes her mind. I don't want you to die for me."

"You'd do well to heed his words," said Bianca tonelessly. She took the young whitelighter's hand and they walked to the wall where the triquetta was drawn in chalk. With a wave of her hand, the time door opened inside the circle.

"Piper, freeze them!" Phoebe cried. Piper flexed her fingers but nothing happened. The couple turned back to face them.

"Okay…" said Phoebe shakily. "I get why she didn't freeze-- but why didn't he freeze?"

"I don't--" began Piper. "Unless…"

"Unless I'm a witch, too?" Finished Chris softly, unable to look in their direction, even with his seemingly opaque sunglasses in place. Paige's jaw dropped. Piper's eyes went wide in either surprise or fury; they couldn't tell. "Yeah… part witch, part whitelighter. Just like you Paige."

"You _lied_ to us?" Paige said, hurt and angry.

"I didn't want to, but if you knew I didn't have to earn my wings there'd be no reason for you to trust me," he said, trying to -what? - apologize?

"No," said Piper with a razor edge. "You know what, there _is_ no reason for us to trust you. If you lie to us, that means you clearly don't trust us, and trust works both ways. So, Chris, just leave. Go back to your own time. You don't belong here."

Chris stared at her, and to Phoebe it seemed as if he carried the weight of the world with him. At last the boy sighed, and turning around to face the time door said softly, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly Phoebe screamed and collapsed on the floor.

"Phoebe!" Paige cried, and then to Chris, "What'd you do to her!"

"No," gasped Phoebe, "it's alri---ah!" she broke off in another scream.

"No," said Chris anxiously. "You're right, I'm sorry." Immediately Phoebe stopped, her muscles relaxing, still breathing hard.

While the sisters crowded around Phoebe, Bianca and Chris stepped through the time portal, silent as shadows. But suddenly, before it had a chance to close, Bianca stepped back through, kicked Piper in the face, and without so much as an explanation, stepped back into the swirling vortex.

"Wait!" Phoebe cried, pushing through the other two and ignoring Piper's bloody nose and bruised face. She swore loudly as the time door sealed. "They're gone!"

"And good riddance," remarked Paige dismissively.

"No," urged Phoebe. "You don't understand. You may have felt his deception, but I felt everything else. He opened himself to my power-- my empathy-- for the first time."

"Wha-- that's all you-- and his girlfriend just--" Piper sputtered, pinching her nose and looking murderous (all though very amusing in Paige's opinion, though she'd never risk her life by voicing that). "I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT SON OF A $& WAS FEELING! LOOK AT _ME!_ &$# !"

"Piper, come on," said Phoebe rolling her eyes in a very Chris-like way. "Demons break your nose all the time-- but Chris is the one who needs our help now! He's not evil, I didn't feel one malicious or ill-boding feeling from him-- but he's struggling. There were too many emotions to control and that was tearing him apart."

"Phoebe," said Paige exasperatedly. "We are not going after him. If he has a problem he should deal with it in his own time. You don't see us going back to Gram's time to vanquish the Source, do you?" She took her sisters' hands and orbed them home just as soon as Leo orbed in beside them.

"Oh, thank God I found you," he said in obvious relief. "The Elders have an assignment for you and Chris that can't wait --- what?" He stopped at the look the three witches shared.

"Chris is gone," said Phoebe testily. "An assassin by the name of Bianca stripped his powers and almost killed Piper" --- Piper made an incredulous noise at this--- "and he went back to the future with her to save our lives."

Leo's shoulders sagged slightly as he went to heal Piper's injuries.

"Chris is half witch," Piper said as if it explained all. "He lied to everyone. He manipulated every_thing_!"

"Piper, any other time I would gladly let him stay there," Leo responded dully, "but this task is impossible without him, unfortunately. We have to get him back."

"What is the task?" inquired Paige with interest.

"To send you to the future-- which how we were planning to do was by using a spell to take you to _his past_ since _just_ going to the future is impossible-- to retrieve an ancient device we elders believe is capable of enormous power for good. We also need Chris because he's the only one that's come across it for thousands of years."

"But if it's an ancient device," said Piper, "why do we need to go to the future?"

"The device has something like a security system," Leo stated matter-of-factly. "It moves everyday. We can't seem to find a pattern-- or it."

"But Chris did so you're sending us to the day he found it," concluded Paige, interest thoroughly piqued now. "Only one problem. Chris is gone and there's no spell to take us to the future to get him."

"Bummer, huh?" said Piper absent-mindedly, preparing to go to the kitchen. Then a light seemed to click on inside Phoebe's eyes and Piper stopped. "Uh… Phoebe?"

"I think I know how to get us there," she breathed, looking up at them all positively glowing with her own brilliance. "Look ---- there are spells that weren't specifically meant to but will in order to fulfill their function. _Like the return to owner spell_! We had to go to the past for Grams' that time, why not the future?"

"Phoebe, you're a genius!" praised Leo. "Then getting to that day with the past spell will be easier-- but you can't come back here first so take everything you'll need. I'll inform the Elders of the plan." He beamed at them for a moment, his eyes stopping on Piper. For a moment their gazes were locked until at last Piper pulled her eyes to the floor, hiding the way her heart was racing. "Good luck," Leo said softly, orbing out.

"Okay," said Paige, snapping into business-mode. "We need something of his--"

"And potions," added Piper. "World of darkness equals lots and lots of potions." She disappeared into the kitchen.

"Paige," said Phoebe, "Spell to take us to the past once we're there and spell to get Chris his powers back. I'll get something of his…"

Paige nodded and orbed to the attic and Phoebe began scouring the house for anything of his. Even without her empathy she knew he hated this house, but why, she had no idea, and doubted very seriously whether he would have left anything here. There had to be something though, even something small or insignificant. And as she was coming back down the stairs she found it. Sitting on the landing was the small black lighter he was always flicking on and off habitually, or so he claimed. Heart flipping almost, she reached down, but as she grasped it she felt her mind being pulled into to future in a premonition.

The scene spread out before her was black (figuratively speaking). Demons were everywhere; screaming, cheering, roaring, talking, fighting, laughing, howling-- like some kind of evil audience. Then she was able to make out one voice above all the yammering, "… ninety-three charges of sabotage, open mockery of his majesty the Source, blowing up his majesty the Source's royal latrine…" The voice continued on as Phoebe forced her mind's eye above the crowd and she saw what was happening.

On a platform between the demon and a stone building were three people and a small slender device that was creating a red beam of light. The beam was moving slowly across a vertically turned metal table on which Chris was confined, burning straight through the metal where it passed. Only centimeters remained between it and her whitelighter (she could still call him her whitelighter, couldn't she?) but he hardly seemed to notice. His wrists and ankles were all clasped separately to the metal slab, but he seemed to be doing something to the manacle around his right wrist, and just as the beam made contact with his side it clanked open. The boy winced in pain as the laser moved inwards and struggled to undo the second wrist clasp, his blood oozing down the table.

The premonition ended. Phoebe sprinted to the kitchen, where Piper was bottling the potions. "We have to hurry. _Now_," she gasped breathlessly.


	3. Boo

**Disclaimer: Me no own. Me no get profit. Me no buy sea-front house. Me no like disclaimers. Me no pass Algebra 1 test. Dern. Me _do_ find shiny thing on ground---_WWEEEEE_!**

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"_We have to hurry. Now."_

"Why?" asked Piper, filling the vials quickly now. "What'd you see?" She gathered them all up in her arms.

"I saw Chris --- being executed. And the Source was there, not three feet from him."

"_The_ Source?" repeated Piper, eyes widening as the concept fully hit her. "As in the only Source ever in existence to move the underworld _above ground_?"

"That'd be the one," responded Phoebe, running to get Paige. "We're going to need some really strong stuff for him. Oh," she added, yelling from the top of the stairs now, "And see if we can get Leo to come with us -- Chris might need some serious healing!"

About three minutes later the sisters and Leo were gathered in the attic.

"Got all the potions?" asked Paige, checking her own as she sorted them into her rucksack. The others nodded. "Alright then, Phoebe, the spell."

The four held hands. Fingering Chris' lighter, Phoebe recited,

"_Take us to the owner of this lighter,_

_Half witch, half whitelighter,_

_But make it so that we may be_

_A safe distance away from he_."

Shining beads of light engulfed them, and the next thing they knew they were in a dark underground room. Around them was a foul, dank odor, and above them they could hear the roaring of the demonic audience. Exchanging looks, the four listened to the reading of the charges for a second as they edged toward the stone staircase and began their silent ascent.

"Vanquishing 19 first Primes, impersonating seven first primes, impersonating his majesty the Source himself, turning his majesty the Source's army into flightless ducks… leading and assisting the Rebel Forces…"

As if on cue the Charmed ones and Leo burst through the door. Instantly, three dozen demons shimmered onto the platform and they had just enough time to see Chris undo the second the second wrist clasp and fall forward to get the ankle ones before the fight began.

"Paige---" called Piper over the vanquishing explosions, "Get Chris his powers back! If he's part witch he can help us get--" she ducked beneath a fireball and vanquished the owner, "--to a safe spot to say the backwards spell!"

"Got it," said Paige, orbing to the metal table, which was already dripping with crimson. Chris was bent beneath the red beam, taking out the screws of the past ankle cuff.

"Alright," she said, announcing her presence,

"_Powers of the witches rise,_

_Course unseen across the skies,_

_Give to Chris his powers back,_

_All that was taken from the attack!_"

"Thanks," said Chris, waving a hand and the clasp released. He waved his hand again at the deadly beam and the laser spun around, vanquishing the demons in the audience. Paige help him to his feet-- and gasped.

"Oh my God," she said, seeing how the laser had burned at least four inches into, and straight through, his side. "Come on, I've got to get you to Leo."

She took his hand and orbed them to Piper, Phoebe, and Leo, who were through with the vanquishing potions and using whatever power or art they had or knew.

"Leo!" called Paige. "Heal, now!"

Pushing aside a demon, Leo reached them and held his hands over the wound. The demon, offended, threw an energy ball at Leo, but Paige orbed it back at him, vanquishing the demon. Leo's hands glowed in gold light and the bloody gash slowly healed.

"Thanks," said Chris.

"You can repay me by getting us somewhere safe," Leo retorted, snapping back into full hate-the-kid-that-replaced-me,-broke-up-me-and-my-wife-and-is-constantly-lying-to-us mode. "You're a witch; any special powers?"

"A few," said Chris and grinned. "But this is just so much cooler."

He tapped a demon that was fighting Phoebe on the shoulder.

"What?" snarled the demon, turning around, but when he saw who it was his eyes went wide.

"Boo," said Chris.

The demon leapt back, bellowing, "The kid's escaped! Get out of here!" He shimmered out. A scream went up among the others and flames, shimmers, black orbs, and dust winds were to be seen before everything disappeared, leaving only the Charmed Ones, Elder, and Future(now Present) Boy.

"Safe enough?" asked Chris, smiling.

"Looks like you have a reputation as quite the bad ass," noted Phoebe, leaning on his shoulder comfortably.

"Something like that," his unnatural blue eyes fell on Piper. "You know I'm really sorry I lied, don't you?"

"I know," she replied crossing her arms. "But that still doesn't change the fact that you betrayed our trust."

"I know," he said uneasily, searching her eyes imploringly. "But I was thinking maybe we could just start over? And I could try and get it right this time?" _Even though you're the one who screwed up **my** life…_

Piper studied the boy for a moment and he made sure the thoughts coursing through his mind didn't show on his countenance. After all the years in undercover work he pulled it of easily. The woman at last let a wry smile cross her features.

"Yeah," she finally conceded. "I think we can do that."

Chris beamed and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Chris. I'm from the… present," he ended lamely, looking around indecisively.

Piper smiled, shaking his hand. "Hi, I'm Piper. I'm from the past. So, I understand you're a…?"

"Witch, whitelighter, fire deemer," he finished, nodding.

"Fire… deemer?" repeated Paige, looking for an explanation, but Leo interrupted, frowning.

"But that's impossible. All the deemers are extinct," he said. "They have been since the early 1400's."

"No," Chris replied simply. "Not extinct. The gene was just dormant for… several hundred years."

"So there are more?" Leo asked, strangely accusatory.

"Not exactly," said Chris slowly. "I'm the only fire deemer alive. But, actually, _Wyatt_ is an earth deemer. And I think we're the only ones."

"Okay!" interrupted Piper. "What is a deemer? Should I be worried about my son?"

"Yes," said Chris same time as Leo said,

"No." Leo stared at him.

"_What?"_ Chris demanded. "He caused quite a few earthquakes before mastered it. I think that's a cause to worry." He paused, thoughtful. "Wow, it feels good to speak in past tense again."

Still staring at Chris, Leo stated, "An earth deemer has the power to control and manipulate the earth-- like ground, rock, and most minerals. The same thing should go for fire deemers except with fire heat and… smoke?"

Chris nodded. "Very good, Leo."

"Cool," said Paige approvingly. "So you can make and shape fires. Awesome."

"Not make," corrected Chris. "Or at least not unless I'm really, really pissed. Which even then isn't a sure guarantee." Leo raised his eyebrows. "So I haven't mastered it yet-- give me a break!"

"So, Chris, you're a witch," said Piper, changing the subject. "What are your powers?"

"Telekinesis," said Chris, taking the hint and dropping his and Leo's arguing, "and two really -- _uncommon_-- forms of astral projections."

"Telekinesis and astral projection were Prue's powers," murmured Phoebe, giving Chris a strange look. The young half-breed couldn't meet her eyes.

"What do you mean 'uncommon'?" queried Paige, intrigued.

Chris cocked his head to one side, thinking. "Well, you know how Barbas astral projects ones that aren't solid? That would be one of the common forms. The uncommon part about mine---" He kicked his foot straight through the platform and brought it back and they saw his foot had left no mark whatsoever. "--I don't astral project to do it. It's called intangibility."

"So that time you fell through the wall when you saw the fish…" began Paige. "There was no portal?"

Chris shook his head. "I've had intangibility as long as I can remember but it's still the hardest to control. And growing up, it wasn't learning to walk that was the hard part, it was learning to walk on the floor that was kicking my ass."

Phoebe snorted, but she stopped at the distant look that had suddenly come across the young man's face.

"Uh… Chris?"

He held out his hand, silencing her, eyes distancing even further. His brow furrowed, eyelids flickering. He looked as though sensing or hearing something beyond their range of perception. "No," he muttered to himself. "Something---something's wrong… something's terribly wrong…"

"Chris, what---?" began Phoebe but the look of intense concentration deepened in his eyes and she halted.

"The Source…" he whispered. "… he's… right below us---" He gasped suddenly, snapping back into it with a look of horror in his eyes. "Bianca!"

With no further comment he tore off across the stage and down the stairs at a reckless pace.

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A/N: I know I didn't tell his second form of astral projection--- evil me ;)**

**Read to find out!**

**PS, I know I'm not good at action scenes being suspenseful and all that. I just started eighth grade last month, so give me a break... or tell me how to make them better... I wouldn't object to that, either...**


	4. Discount Price

**Disclaimer: I don't own. You don't sue. Everyone get how this works?**

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The Charmed Ones and Leo exchanged glances.

"Follow?" asked Paige bluntly, watching the place her fellow whitelighter/wiccan half-breed had disappeared.

"Follow." confirmed Phoebe, and with a last weary look at each other the sisters and Leo took off after him.

They reached the stairway, but as soon as they began the descent there was a blinding flash of scarlet light accompanied by a deafening explosion. The four raced down the steps, now, praying they weren't too late. Through the back door in the earthen room they had first appeared in, and down a long narrow stone corridor they sprinted, where at last the corridor opened out into a vast dimly lit hall… where an unexpected sight met their eyes.

Chris was alone in the massive room, on his knees with his back to them. All around him were ashes, the walls burned black and sooty. His hand closed dreamlike around the ashes that lay spread before him, and the boy watched as though in a trance as they slipped through the cracks between his fingers. He seemed completely lost to reality, completely unaware of their presence. The sisters and Leo stopped a few feet away.

"Chris," said Phoebe cautiously, taking a few steps forward. "What… happened?"

Chris took a deep breath and didn't answer immediately. At length he slid his sunglasses back on and stood, staring down at the ashes. "He vanquished Bianca…" The boy said quietly, still not facing them. "I got mad. Vanquished the demons…" At last he seemed to realize who he was speaking to, or actually that he was speaking aloud, maybe, and snapped back into his closed, guarded composure and turned back to look at the four. "If we're going somewhere I suggest we go now. Before the Source comes back."

"Wait, wait, wait," Piper cut off anything he might have been going to add. "Where _is_ the Source?"

"Gobi Desert."

The Charmed ones and Elder stared at him and his indifference as he said this.

"Okay…" said Piper, slowly. "Then what's keeping him from flaming back in here at this very moment?"

"Not much. Maybe the couple of misplaced feathers… possibly the beak…" Chris replied absently. "So what's the plan?"

"You turned the Source into a duck, too!" Blurt out Phoebe before she could stop herself.

Chris glanced at her, unsurprised. "Not exactly. It's just that all my spells seem to end in… feathers. I think someone must've cursed me when I was a kid…"

Still not quite sure what to make of this situation, Paige said slowly, looking to her sisters for help, "Well, we were going to go to the year you found this thing…"

"The Transporting Archeohauge," assisted Leo. "To bring back a device for the other Elders and me."

"What?" exclaimed the younger male, aghast, his mask of unconcern falling away at last. "No! We can't go back there--- it's too dangerous. There were booby-traps and moral and intelligence tests and everything in that damn place!"

"Do you remember the day?" pressed Leo, ignoring the outburst.

"I was sixteen or seventeen, that's all I remember concerning the time part," he responded coldly. They knew he was giving Leo a look that not only would have curdled milk into butter, but burned the proverbial toast it went on as well.

"Leo…" said Piper in a pleasant voice that always foretold of dangerous, homicidal anger. "The backwards spell only works with a specific date in mind --- _he doesn't even remember the year!"_

There it was, but Leo took it into stride. "Don't worry," he replied smoothly and a remote control with only four buttons orbed into his out held hand. He held it up for them to see, apparently pleased with himself. "Fast forward and rewind days," he said, indicating the top two buttons, "Fast forward and rewind years," he indicated the other two. "Elders had every magical creature that deals with time help make it-- just for us, just in case. Only problem is: how far we go forward or backwards depends on how long we hold the button down, so it's kind of--"

"Unpredictable?" suggested Paige. "Not an exact science?"

Leo nodded reluctantly. "Sort of."

"No," said Chris immediately. "We are _not_ leapfrogging around _your_ future. That's final."

So they were in Chris' third grade class when --- just kidding.

Back to the argument.

"Why?" challenged Leo. "Something you don't want us to see?"

"Yes, actually," retorted Chris without skipping a beat. "There are some things that you just _can't know _about the future. Some things that aren't going to change just because we vanquished a few more demons than the first time. It could seriously screw up _everything-- even more_ than it already is!"

"Well that's too bad, cause we're going," said Piper, and, leaving no room for protest, she threw vials at all their feet. They were consumed in a puff of silver and gold smoke. When it cleared the five looked around. Nothing had changed. The four not-Pipers looked at Piper, arching eyebrows.

"We're invisible to everyone but each other," she explained irritably, snatching the time-remote from Leo and hitting the backwards year button without taking the angry complaints from her new whitelighter. Just as her finger released, they all felt as though a hook and caught them by the shoulders and abruptly yanked them backwards so fast their surroundings melted into a complete blur of colors. Wind whipped at them from all directions, but besides that it was actually quiet.

"Oh," moaned Paige, clutching her stomach, face a pale greenish hue as they were pulled backwards faster and faster. "This was a really bad plan."

Not two disorienting seconds after she had uttered this, they came to a halt so suddenly Piper, Phoebe, Paige, and Leo were hurtled clean off their feet and into a wall colored in deep violet wallpaper. Chris, however, simply walked over to the nearest table and sat down, silent.

They appeared to have landed in some kind of a club with a bar, a stage (complete with a teenaged rock/punk band), and about five dozen small round tables for couples the same color as the wall paper. Lining the walls was a long, continuous midnight blue cushion or couch, whichever.

Getting back to their feet, Piper looked around. "This can't be right," she mused, frowning. With that she hit the fast forward days button. When nothing happened, she hit it again… then again.

"Piper!" exclaimed Leo, snatching it away. When his ex-wife gave him a look that told of murder, he hastened to explain, "It takes anywhere from five to twenty minutes to work again. Now when it does it'll only be a few days, then a few days again." He paused, taking in his surroundings at last and frowning likewise. "Hm. I don't know how we ended up here, though. It was supposed to take us to where ever Chris' past self was at the time…"

"Who cares?" said Paige brightly. "We're at a cool club with a damn good band playing. Let's just take advantage of it while we can and relax." The red-haired woman went over to a table in front of the band and took a seat, careful not to move the chair, remembering she was invisible. Piper and Leo shared a look and with a shrug went to join her. Phoebe, however, spotted Chris and took the seat in front of him.

The young man had lost his anger and was staring into space, she knew, behind those black shades. Even though he was blocking her empathy she could see the devastation in his composure he always had unyielding and guarded. Though it still was, she could see through it, none the less. Not knowing exactly what to say to a man who had just watched his fiancée die, she still felt she had to say something since she knew her sisters or brother-in-law wouldn't.

"Hey," she said, trying to get him to look up at her at the very least.

"Hey," he replied, still staring unseeingly at the table before him.

"…Chris, I'm sorry," she managed at last.

He finally looked up at her. "For what?"

"Bianca," she replied softly. "I know what it feels like to lose someone you love dearly."

"Big surprise there," came the sarcastic response.

Phoebe, resisting the sudden urge to slap him, changed the subject.

"So, Leo said the remote would take us to you. Where are you?"

Chris raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. "You _really_ don't see me? _Phoebe_…" He stood, pulled her down from her own stool, and directed her to the front where the others were sitting by the stage.

"Hey, have you heard this band?" asked Piper. "They are _good_ even if they probably aren't even born yet…"

Phoebe and Chris ignored her, Chris bringing Phoebe not two feet from the stage and pointing her shoulders so that she was directly facing the lead singer/guitarist.

The woman laughed. "No way…"

The boy in front of her was thirteen or fourteen, with sandy brown hair that had a casual way of spilling into his startlingly green eyes. Eyes so green you could hold a green crayon up to and not see the difference besides the intricate gold lacing around the pupils. The boy was wearing a loose fitting long-sleeved black shirt, baggy black cargo pants, and fingerless gloves. He had a way of playing the electric guitar and singing that totally natural.

"Yes way."

Phoebe's brow furrowed as she looked up at her 22 year old whitelighter. "But your eyes are blue," she pointed out, perplexed.

"Ever heard of this magic trick--- pretty new--- called _glamouring_?" he asked sardonically, rolling his eyes.

"But why?" she continued. "Yours are so pretty green."

"It's complicated. Something to do with putting people in comas, turning their hair white, weird stuff like that."

Phoebe, almost squealing with excitement, ran over to Piper, Paige and Leo. "The remote isn't messed up," she said in a rush, grinning widely. "Chris is here."

"What? Where?" said Piper, looking around. Eyes wide and staring up onto the platform, Paige turned her sister's head to face the stage and the thirteen year old Chris. Her reaction was the same as Phoebe's. "Nuh-uh…"

Paige, Phoebe, and Chris all nodded.

"You never told us you could sing!" accused Paige, almost laughing.

"You never asked," he shrugged, biting back an involuntary smile at their astonishment.

Suddenly there was a burst of music from the stage other that the band, softer, but still very audible. The thirteen year old Chris winced, still singing, but moved over to the keyboardist beside him who was currently waiting to come back in. He motioned with his head to his pocket, and his band mate answered his cell phone.

The sisters turned to the adult Chris with mild laughter. "You left your phone on during a gig?" He wrinkled his nose at them… like Prue used to do.

"Hey, Chris," hissed the keyboardist, pushing her raven black hair out of her face. "Some dude named The Source wants you to join him for a limited time discount price. What do I tell him?"

**

* * *

A/N: You may think this is a stupid cliff hanger, but I know just how much it actually is… Mwhahahahahahahahaha! _No I don't need help, whatever would make you say that? (smiles innocently)_**


	5. Chaotic Flight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or Drake and Josh, from whose show I stole one little phrase. Now go and sue someone else.**

**A/N: Just in case little Chris calls his mom "Piper" that's because they weren't close, as I'm sure you figured out already, so he will occasional refer to her as both (just so he can keep his cover up and confuse you!)**

* * *

"_What do I tell him?"_

"NO!" the thirteen year old exclaimed. The rest of the band faltered, staring at their lead singer/guitarist and keyboardist. The young Chris quickly continued with his part, slipping into the lyrics, "---Hang up---"

"He said if I hang up on him he'll destroy up the club!" She hissed. Chris gave her a look that said 'you've got to be kidding me' all on its own. The black-haired girl paused thoughtfully. "Why do I not find this at all surprising with you?" she queried, rhetorically.

The other teen threw her a death-glare, which immediately silenced her.

The music turned over to the bass guitarist and drummer, leaving 13 Chris free.

"Trade with me," he whispered.

"What?" rasped his friend, eyes widening. "Chris, _I play the keyboard, not the guitar_ !"

The boy sighed through his teeth, clearly annoyed now. "Alright. You sing it, I'll play it and just put the freakin' phone on loudspeaker. You know the words, don't you, Alley?"

The girl, now known as Alley, nodded and held out the cell phone. He took it from her, hit a button, and set it by his foot as she took the mike.

The sisters turned to Chris, eyebrows continuing to raise. _"The Source of all evil was harassing you over the phone?"_

"Yep," replied Chris absent-mindedly, watching his old band perform. Phoebe felt a certain longing and regret radiate from him for a split second before he block himself from her again. Her eyes narrowed in frustration, but she kept it to herself. What was the use of putting him in an unnecessary spotlight after he had just watched his fiancée die? She asked herself, remembering Cole with that same regret she had just felt from the 22 year old. "Had to block all thirty-two numbers he was using," the boy continued, still not quite in the same room as the rest of them.

"Okay, here's the deal," said his younger version, capturing their attention again. The boy strummed out the cords as Alley began to sing. "Phone harassment is illegal and you've already called nine-teen times. When I say 'no' I mean no, not 'call back in three minutes'. Now I am going to hang up and you are just going to get over it. Savvy?"

He hung up with his toe. As soon as he did so, however, it began ringing again. He rolled his eyes and, to the surprise of everyone, kicked his phone into the air and into the audience.

Without even looking away from his date, who was talking animatedly about her day, blonde-hair-turquoise-eyes held up his hand and caught it. The guy clicked it on then, without answering, clicked it right back off, saying to the attractive girl, "I know what you mean; the woman has issues."

Piper spun around to face the adult Chris. "Wyatt's here! Why didn't you tell me my son was here? And that you _know_ him in the future!"

Chris stared at her, mouth slightly open. "You mean-- you recognized him as a teenager? How--"

"Of course I recognized my son!" Piper snapped, affronted. "But why didn't you tell us you knew him? That would have saved you a lot of trouble, young man!"

Chris, regaining his composure, rolled his eyes. "Come on, Piper. Would you honestly have believed me if I had told you your precious son was going to be my friend in, like five years in the future? If you knew that, you never would trust us together as kids and if we were never friends I never would have had any reason to come back and stop him from getting hurt by evil and you'd have to live with that the rest of your life while I'd be happily oblivious--"

"Okay, Chris!" interrupted Paige, cutting him off. "No need to get into all that detail dealing with time travel. This is a time I'd happily allow you to just say 'future consequences'." The youngest Charmed One paused. "You know, I used to think you just said that because you didn't want to answer us, but if you gave us an explanation like that every time…" She shuddered. "Thank you for just saying 'future consequences'!"

"Anytime."

"Hey, whoa," said Piper, intervening their nice chat less than agreeably. "I am _not_ okay with that stupid little catch phrase of yours. I want explanations when I ask for them, not when I live them ten years later!"

Chris rolled his eyes. Phoebe pat his arm sympathetically as Piper continued to rant but everyone had all but tuned out. Leo and the aunts were watching the teenaged Wyatt Halliwell converse with his date.

The boy looked to be around fifteen or maybe sixteen. His fair colored hair was longish and curly; his turquoise eyes sincere. He was tall and dressed like any normal teenager that didn't have super-human powers. His date, Monica, had long, beautiful midnight red tresses and deep silver-grey eyes, easy to light to laughter. The two looked happy together, and comfortable, like it was the simplest thing in the world. So caught up in their son/nephew's happiness, they didn't notice as Chris' cell phone shimmered off the table and back at 13 Chris' foot. What caught their attention was the ringing from the stage, yet again. The five turned around in time to see the young version of Chris snap, "Okay, that's it!" And just as he stomped it into pieces Wyatt shouted,

"Chris, wait!" and froze the room. The Chris on stage looked up mildly.

"Wy, why did you freeze the room…?" He halted, frowning, as Wyatt orbed onto the stage beside him and eyed the crumbles with a very blunt expression. "Geez, that sounds weird…"

"That was Mom's phone," the blonde said tonelessly.

13 Chris stared at him. "Dude, that's not funny. Don't joke like that."

"I'm not joking."

"But-- but--" the brunette stammered, then groaned, letting his shoulders sag. "When were our cells even _around_ each other?"

Piper rounded on the adult Chris, hostility still not abated. "You smashed my phone!"

He smiled, but somehow it didn't look easy.

"PTO this afternoon," Wyatt shrugged, but at Chris' horrified expression, hastened to add, "But don't worry." He picked up the remains as the thirteen year old sank to the ground. "I can fix it." He geld it out at arm's length and squinted at it. Instantly the phone brought itself together and was fixed, good as new. "But I think I'll take it back," he continued, giving Chris a narrow look. "Just in case you get anymore… temptations." He gave Chris a hand up, and as he did so the younger one's sleeve slid back to reveal and extremely ugly bruise… in the shape of a handprint. Wyatt winced just looking at it.

"Tell me about it," the 13 year old intoned, jerking his sleeve over it again.

"You know I could hea---"

"No, you couldn't," the youngest said firmly. "You can only heal injuries inflicted by evil, remember?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but Phoebe felt a strong vibe of unease from him, maybe even… guilt? "One of these days, Christopher…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but until then," the boy ushered him abruptly off the stage. "Unfreeze."

As soon as Wyatt was back in his seat he made a quick, flick/wave motion of the wrist with two fingers and the room unfroze. Chris easily fell back into the music and sang the last line with Alley, "_Gonna spread my wings like an eagle falling/ gonna spread my wings._"

The crowd cheered and an older woman, maybe in her late thirties, came onto the stage with a microphone somewhere on her collar. It was too small to see. "Well!" she cried cheerily. "Let's give it up for C4, everyone! The song 'Chaotic Flight'---"

The crowd erupted in more cheers and applause. The woman beamed, turning to face the young band. "And kids, as your science teacher, I have to tell you--- your music is great and you guys are awesome!" She paused and the sisters thought for a moment it was because of the tremendous outburst of applause, but then they saw how the teacher's eyes had fallen on 13 Chris and how every bit of enthusiasm and cheer fell away like a mask. Smile completely wiped off and eyes on the young one she said with flat indifference, "But I hate you… Chris."

The boy nodded, uncomfortable, and couldn't help but grimace as he replied, "Yeah…" none too enthused himself. "I know…"

That's when the time remote chose to gear up and they felt the hook catch them once more by the shoulders but this time jerk them forward faster than the speed of light. The sisters and Leo narrowed their eyes against the disorienting whir of colors but Chris suddenly felt his heart catch in his throat. His mouth fell slightly open as he stared at a beside Phoebe. The empath turned to see…

Bianca. Standing beside her. Complete in her tight black leather outfit. Giving Chris a cold and calculating look.

"Bi…anca?" Chris whispered uncertainly, not able to believe his eyes. "But you--"

"Died?" the newcomer finished icily, not taking her steely gaze from her fiancé. "The Source resurrected me. Apparently I'm an asset to his reign."

"But," said Paige uneasily, "then why would he have killed you in the first place?"

The once dead young woman didn't even look at the baby Charmed One. "The Source kill me?" she scoffed, taking a step closer to Chris, cruel gaze intensifying ten fold. "No, Paige. Chris is the one who vanquished me."


	6. two plus two

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed, OKAY? Use some common sense here!

**A/N: Bianca and Chris are the same age (About…) in my version. The way where she's older is just creepy…**

* * *

"_No, Paige," Bianca said, icily blazing eyes on their whitelighter. "Chris is the one who vanquished me."_

The Charmed Ones and Leo stared at her and Chris alike. Bianca was just as cold and steely as ever, but Chris' countenance was shifting between confusion and pain.

"Bi, what are you talking about?" He asked hoarsely, taking a half step towards his supposed victim, once deceased lover.

"Save the act for them, Chris," Bianca spat. "The Source has had it with you. He knows how I like evening scores so I got the task of getting rid of you personally." But even as she said it, the young woman made no move to start a fight.

Chris, overwhelmed by seeing the love of his life alive and hell-bent on having him dead, asked in a broken voice, "And how do you plan on doing that?" He stopped trying to move closer to her.

Phoebe could see the evidence of heartbreak surrounding the boy like a dark cloak, even as he forced himself to ask what was necessary, to act accordingly. It tore her heart to pieces. She believed him, somehow. If he said he didn't kill her, she believed him. His reactions were just too realistic to be hoaxed, no matter how good of an actor he was. _But,_ said a nagging little voice in the back of her head,_ if he is lying, I will personally help Bianca drag him back to the future. Execution and all. I can't take any more frigging lies from him!_

Bianca crossed her arms, leaning back slightly on the balls of her feet. She seemed quite comfortable considering she was in the presence of ones who could vanquish her in a heartbeat for just being what she was-- evil. Instead of answering directly she asked, "Remember when we first met?"

Chris, as though in a trance, nodded, replying tonelessly, "You had been hired to assassinate me when we were kids."

Bianca nodded absently. "Yeah… and you always managed to survive everything I threw at you. We were so evenly matched it was ridiculous. Neither of us had anything over the other to win a single fight."

Chris sighed, looking away. "What are you getting at, Bianca? It's not like you to beat around the bush."

"You just said it," his fiancée said with a mischievous grin. "Beat."

Chris stared at her, a subtle question lighting somewhere within his unnatural blue eyes.

Bianca's cold gaze met his, seemingly providing an answer only Chris could interpret. The young man's face slid into a paler shade, a larger question now evident in his entire face.

The time remote chose that moment to stop, succeeding in hurling the Charmed Ones and Leo down an unfamiliar tile hallway. Bianca and Chris weren't affected and stood stone still, eyes locked, seemingly holding an entire conversation without words. They both were oblivious to what was going on around them.

The sisters and Leo, however, were not. They were in some kind of school or academy with perfectly kept white stone walls, polished tile floors, gleaming teal doors, behind which classes were not yet taking place. Judging from the windows in the classrooms it was _very_ early in the morning.

They didn't have time to dwell on the time, however, as at that moment they all became aware of the extremely magical fight going on. They whirled around to find two young teenagers in the middle of practically taking down the entire building; one they recognized as a boy, the other a girl, but besides that the two were moving too fast to see any distinguishing features. That was, until the girl succeeded in throwing an evil looking atheme into the boy's shoulder.

The scene seemed to freeze as the force of the throw spun the boy slightly so that they could see his face.

Of course it was Chris, Phoebe thought, admonishing herself for holding her breath. The time remote wouldn't have dropped them off here if it wasn't. But she did gasp as she saw his state.

His front, from shoulders to toes, was entirely drenched in purple paint. And running across his face were multiple dark bruises, all somewhere else along in the healing process, so she knew he hadn't gotten them from this fight. Then there was the whole knife in the shoulder thing, but anyway.

As the fight had suddenly careened to a halt, they also saw the attacker's face. It was Bianca at age thirteen, with raven black hair and a more modest outfit, though not by far. She looked highly pissed.

"I swear I am going to have SO much fun watching you die, now!" she screamed, throwing another energy ball at the boy. 13 Chris ducked beneath it and tore the dagger from his shoulder, yelling back,

"Well, excuse me for stating the obvious! I mean, really! Do you have PMS or something!" He hurtled the atheme back at her, missing by mere inches.

The adult Chris spun to face the older Bianca, horrified. "How did you know this was--- there's no way---"

But Bianca cut him off with no more than a malicious smile that made Phoebe's blood turn cold. The assassin, still smiling, shimmered out, only to reappear next to her young counterpart. The two Biancas shared a look, coming to a silent, instantaneous understanding.

They both threw energy balls at the thirteen year old Chris just as a shield of light appeared in front of the Charmed Ones, Leo, and adult Chris, cutting them off from the fight. Thirteen Chris groaned, wearily redirecting them with his telekinesis. He already seemed worn out.

"Uh-oh," said Paige, taking in the situation without much enthusiasm. "Do we need to help little you?" She asked Chris.

They turned to see him clearly debating with himself. Something more than just the simple question if to glamour, break down the shield, and help was taking place behind those ice blue eyes. Something that seemed to take more of a toll on his conscience. At last he sighed, looking away.

"No. We can't. This has to happen without future interference."

"But she's interfering," Phoebe pointed out, clearly concerned for the young one's safety. Children shouldn't have to fight evil, shouldn't have to fight for their lives. It wasn't fair for them to be forced into those types of situations that even adults had trouble dealing with.

"I know, but she also interfered the first time around. I remember this is when she-- the younger one-- discovered a certain… weakness," he explained ambiguously. They grimaced as an energy ball got past the young one's telekinesis and scraped his side. The boy groaned and rolled his eyes and instead of keeping up his defense, turned to offense. He flicked his wrists, sending the two Phoenixes flying down the hall and crashing into a stone wall. That was enough to piss them off even more. The two came at him with even more force, and again the moves were faster than the eye could follow. Chris was blocking again and the Biancas were all but kicking his ass. Energy balls and athemes were flying, telekinesis was throwing.

"What weakness?" queried Paige with interest.

Chris threw her a look that said all on its own, 'don't make me hurt you'.

Meanwhile the two thirteen year olds had been holding their own conversation,

"If you EVER call me fat again I will--"

"What-- kill me?" smirked 13 Chris, redirecting an atheme back at its owner and dodging extremely skillful marshal arts blows. "Isn't that what you were planning to do in the first place? And you _do_ need to find another tank top… even though 'fat' wasn't the exact word I used…"

She screamed angrily, "That is so freaking it! I am so going to go call your parents and tell them you were using magic!"

13 Chris' face drench of all color, making the various bruises stand out more prominently than ever. He stopped trying to vanquish her. "You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh, so I was right!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "You _aren't_ allowed to use magic! Oh yeah! I knew it!"

The boy's mouth fell open. "You _bitch_! You can't go inferring stuff like that and expect me to be able to see the difference! That's just--- just---"

"Evil?" She taunted, and, with one last sneer, shimmered out.

The older version of Bianca smirked and, with a wave of her hand, four crystals materialized in a circle around the boy. The crystal cage activated immediately. The teen groaned and let himself sink to the ground, swearing repeatedly. The news that his parents would find out seemed to hit him harder than the fact that he was currently trapped with no escape in the presence of an assassin intent on murdering him.

The Charmed Ones and Leo looked at the adult Chris, noticing this with confusion. Phoebe was now left in no doubt as to what his home life might have been like. Piper, however, had her attention caught by something else. "You weren't allowed to use magic, but you still had your powers? Why would your parents not bind them so you wouldn't be tempted?"

"They tried," he said inexpressively. "Didn't work." Piper was about to question him further, but was interrupted by Bianca

"Tough luck, huh?" she said conversationally to the 13 year old Chris, unable to hear the other's conversation through the shield, though they could hear hers.

The young Chris threw her a look with pronounced hatred. "Why did you tell her?" he demanded. "You can't screw with the future like that! What if you weren't supposed to know about that this soon?"

"I would have figured it out eventually," The woman replied, a twisted smile forming on her lips. She was enjoying seeing him in such a defenseless state, making Phoebe want to slap her. "It doesn't take a genius to see the reluctance you have when you use your powers around other people. Or the way you hate going home every day. Anyway, this is how I remember finding out that I could use someone else to weaken you enough for me to strike. And this time it will be an even deadlier blow than the first time around-- which your future self could tell you-- was pretty bad."

The ones from the past looked at the adult Chris. "What is she talking about? What did she find out?"

Chris raised an eyebrow mildly. "And here I was thinking you could put two and two together without me being your calculator."

Paige rolled her eyes, yet Phoebe was gazing at him with a grim curiosity as she asked, locking their eyes, "Is it what I think it is?"

Chris eyed her, giving no sign of his thoughts for a moment. At last he replied in an indifferent voice, "Something along those lines, yes."

"Something along what lines?" said Piper suspiciously, looking between the two. "Phoebe, what are you thinking?"

But Phoebe still had locked her and Chris' eyes and took a second to respond. "Chris…" she began, off-balanced, "…should be the one to tell you… It's his choice. His life."

"Or we can just put two and two together ourselves," declared Paige, turning back to the scene before her and paying rapt attention, determined to find out what secret the empath and halfblood were in on together.


	7. equals

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. But I still manage to survive somehow.**

* * *

"_Anyway, this is how I remember finding out that I could use someone else to weaken you enough for me to strike. And this time it will be an even deadlier blow than the first time around-- which your future self could tell you-- was pretty bad."_

"Sounds like fun," 13 Chris said with an annoyed edge. He glanced up at the security camera in the shadows of the unlit corridor. "Knew I was forgetting something…" The camera abruptly pulled itself from the wall and flew into the teen's hands, zapping softly as it soared threw the electric cage field.

"What are you doing?" asked Bianca sharply, eyeing the camera warily.

"Changing what the camera saw so magic isn't exposed," he responded with a bite of sharpness enough to rival her own. "Got a problem with it, give me detention, Miss O Mighty Assassin Who Came Back To The Past To Vanquish A Kid Because She's So Pathetic She Can't Do It In Her Own Time When He's Her Own Age."

"That's a mouthful," commented Piper from the sidelines.

"Were you always so _cocky_?" Paige said in disbelief. Chris rolled his eyes.

"Are you kidding me? That is just _sad_ compared to the subtle insults I can throw now," he almost laughed. Almost.

Phoebe threw him a sidelong look. It was amazing. He _was_ always cocky, always in control, always… invincible. She couldn't imagine him ever being _hit_ or degraded by his parents; couldn't picture him being vulnerable or helpless at the hands of people he was supposed to be able to feel safe and secure around. She couldn't imagine how _she _would feel, and that was for sure. But how could she? Her father had left and her mother had died, both when she was a toddler. And Grams had always been so protective, if not a little strict sometimes. It had always been with her best interests in mind, though. Never 'just because'.

Thinking about this, she wondered if-- or rather, _when_-- her sisters and brother-in-law found out they would be any kinder towards him. Or if they'd even care at all. Sometimes just hearing something wasn't enough to change anything. They'd probably have to _see_ it to understand what he'd been through, even before the world went to Hell… and as much as Phoebe hated to admit it, she would have to know more to understand, too. So many people were abused by their parents in the world, and every case was so different, maybe his parents just had higher expectations, maybe they just didn't realize they were hurting him…

Then she remembered the one other fact he had shared before now, the only one they knew about his childhood. The fact that his parents had drowned him as a small child. What good, simply misunderstood parent would 'accidentally' drown their--- she froze.

He had said that he HAD drowned. That was how he had become a whitelighter. But now they knew he was only half… so was it just a lie to gain her pity? To get her off his back? _Was there any basis of truth in it?_

But her attention was pulled abruptly back to the assassin as a cold laugh trickled from her throat. "You may scorn me now, Christopher, but you won't be when you return home tonight. You might actually be out with-- what was the excuse she used to give the school?-- _schizophrenic shock_, for a week… or maybe even two, if dear mommy's in a good enough mood."

The thirteen year old glared at her, choosing not to respond. He coldly continued reworking the wires and microchips in the security camera as though he did it often.

Paige looked at her whitelighter suspiciously. "Code word for what?" she said narrowly. The 22 year old just gave her an innocent look. She scowled and turned back to the scene, still determined to find out his secret.

She was surprised to turn and see a 3-D film project out of the camera, though, and stared. The images were of three strange boys, about fourteen or fifteen, wiring a can of water-based purple paint above a door. Snickering, they proceeded to tape a giant golden banner that read 'GO BACK TO THE ASYLUM CREEPER! YOU DON'T BELONG HERE' on the door and ran to hide inside a nearby broom closet, leaving a crevice between the wall and door to see out through. They only had seconds to wait, for less than a minute later who should be in that specific room but their neurotic whitelighter as a kid. As soon as he opened the door the can of paint lurched forward, splattering his entire front in the violet goo. The boys responsible immediately fell from their hiding place, howling with laughter. It didn't take Chris long to figure out what happened once he saw the banner. The way the boy's heart sank was an obvious flicker of sadness and hurt across his already bruised features; then his composure changed back to the trademark nonchalant and he pulled out a small black device from his pocket. The older boys, too fixated on their mirth, didn't notice as he pressed a few buttons, but they did react, however, to the sudden ton of green slime that emptied itself from the ceiling above their heads. The boys, spluttering, clambered to their feet, clueless and infuriated. The fattest, although cliché enough, shortest, angrily threw the young Perry a filthy look before motioning for his gang to depart. They did so, slipping and sliding on the slime as they went. Then, as Chris watched them leave, the other doors flew open and at least a hundred kids spilled out into the hallways as class change began.

The 13 Chris clicked the camera off. "That'll work."

"What'd you do?" Leo inquired the adult Chris without his usual hostility. Apparently seeing the boy having to deal with school bullies sobered him slightly. Although, he still was not above questioning his replacement's every move…

"That class changed never happened," the adult Chris explained unconcernedly. "Right after they left Bianca attacked."

"Dang, you just never got a break did you?" Paige commented lightly.

Chris gave a soft, harsh laugh. "You have no idea."

As soon as the words left his lips, though, the time remote chose to gear up and the hook snatched them by the shoulders, pulling them forward at disorienting speeds.

Paige swore violently, causing Chris to raise his eyebrows in amused surprise.

"What?" she demanded indignantly. "So I want to know what you two are hiding, sue me."

"What about the future Bianca?" queried Phoebe, steering the conversation away from that particular topic. "Why didn't she move with us since she got to that time by the remote…? How did she even find us?"

Chris shrugged, saying bitterly, "I don't know; maybe the Source had something to do with it. Maybe he gave her some advanced tracking spell right after he resurrected her and changed her memory," he ended even bitterer than he had begun. That did not go unnoticed by the Past Ones.

Suddenly the time device slammed to a halt, and Chris hastily grabbed Phoebe and Paige's hands before they had a chance to go flying across the classroom like Piper and Leo. The two got quickly to their feet and joined Chris, Phoebe, and Paige, who were observing their new surroundings.

They were apparently in a health classroom, judging by the posters of the organ systems, food… circle?… and diseases. There was a teacher in the front of the room who had bright blonde hair, was somewhat round, but kind looking, nevertheless. She and a few students were discussing something-- suicide?-- while everyone else was finishing bookwork.

The ones from the past barely had to look for their young whitelighter. He was sitting crossed legged in his desk, drawing on the back of his paper as though forcing himself not to listen to the discussion for some reason. The bruises on his face had faded almost completely so that they knew it was at least two or three weeks later. He was still wearing all black, still wearing long sleeves even though it had to be spring since everything was in bloom outside the window. Still wearing fingerless black gloves, sandy brown hair still spilling into his face whenever he moved.

Phoebe noticed with some amusement that a blonde girl sitting beside him was watching him with a little more than curiosity, though he seemed not to see it. He was too intent on his drawing, except by now Phoebe, Piper, Paige, and Leo could all tell he was really only trying not to hear that health-topic-related conversation.

"And people normally give off signs beforehand that they're going to attempt suicide," the teacher was saying. "Especially when they're young. They might start acting happy sud---"

"Stop it!" the thirteen year old Chris suddenly yelled, jumping to his feet. He seemed to have given up trying to act like he couldn't hear. "Just stop it, okay? You've got no idea what you're talking about!" And without so much as an explanation, he stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. The ones from the past didn't dare break that silence and give themselves away, but looked perplexedly at their grown whitelighter.

At last the teacher shattered the silence that was starting to scream, by asking the girl that had serenely gotten to her feet, "Do you know what that was about, Paris?"

The girl with long, waist length blue-black hair and deep indigo colored eyes, now identified as Paris, slowly walked to the door, retracing the boy's steps. "I think so," she said softly, preparing to go after him, but the teacher held up her hand, scribbling something on a yellow slip of paper.

"Here, give him this and tell him to go to Mrs. Halliwell," the woman said, handing the slip to Paris. "I'll call her and tell her to expect him, so he doesn't just leave again."

"Mrs… Halliwell?" Paris said uncomprehendingly, but when she looked down at the paper realized, "Oh, the new counselor. Alright."

She left, not abandoning her serene composure.

The Charmed Ones and Leo stared at 22 Chris.

"Phoebe was your school's counselor?" implied Paige, all but laughing.

"Hey, who said it was Phoebe and not you?" Piper remarked, eyes not leaving Chris for a second. Something strange was taking place behind those cinnamon colored eyes that Phoebe had never seen before. Somehow, it made her uneasy.

"It has to be her," Paige declared assertively. "She's the one that went to college for that kind of stuff. Although _why_ she'd want to listen to little twelve year old girls crying about how some boy she likes doesn't like her back, I don't know."

"Actually, Piper," said Phoebe, intentionally causing her older sister to look at her instead. "I've been thinking about it for awhile, already. Children need just as much help with their problems as adults do. And sometimes they don't always have anyone else they can talk to, or trust." She grinned. "I think Paige's social worker days have been rubbing off on me."

Paige beamed. "Glad I could help you see the light," she said brightly. "Now what do you say we orb to your future office and eavesdrop?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me," responded Piper, and before Chris could protest, Leo and Piper took hands and invisi-orbed out; Paige took Phoebe's arm without waiting for approval and did likewise.


	8. continued equals

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, now leave me alone to die.**

* * *

"_Sounds like a good plan to me," responded Piper, and before Chris could protest, Leo and Piper took hands and invisi-orbed out; Paige took Phoebe's arm without waiting for approval and did likewise._

Chris swore loudly, causing the students in the back of the room to look up, startled and confused. The witch-whitelighter grimaced. _Well,_ he thought unenthusiastically,_ Might as well follow them and at least annoy the hell out of them. That might distract them enough from finding out why Phoebe's going to call me 'sweetie' after every sentence…_ He wasn't bothered by the possibility of his young self calling her 'Aunt', though. His family was so informal he'd probably just call her 'Pheebs'. Wyatt might call her Aunt Pheebs just to annoy her, though…

He orbed out to find everyone already in the future Phoebe's spacious office. There were pictures lining the walls, along with unopened boxes on the floor and newspaper clippings scattered on her already messy desk. There was a miniature basket ball hoop in one corner right above the trash can, too. His thirteen year old self was sitting in an upholstered rolling chair across from the future version of Phoebe, legs drawn up to his chest, chin resting on his knees. The future Phoebe was something surprising.

Her hair was cropped raggedly, but fashionably, around her ears and had streaks of bubble gum pink in it that 22 Chris still found extremely annoying. The ones from the past were digging it, though. He rolled his eyes. _Okay, so that's one thing that's not going to change. Darn._

She was still well shaped, though-- even bigger surprise-- now she was wearing a modest looking t-shirt and loose jeans.

The ones from the past didn't even look up as Chris orbed in beside them, but listened to the conversation attentively. They were _still_ determined to find out his secret. _Too bad this has nothing to do with Mom and Dad,_ Chris thought bitterly._ Or, not directly, at least._

"Mrs. Barnes told me the topic today was major depression and suicide," Future Phoebe said softly, watching the boy with gentle concern welled in her eyes. "Thinking about Jessie, again?"

"Naw, just contemplating suicide myself," he bit sarcastically. "What do you think?"

Both Phoebes flinched at his harsh words.

"Who's Jessie?" whispered Paige.

Chris didn't reply.

Future Phoebe, however, had a very scientific reply (though not to her younger-er sister's question, obviously), having gone to college for more years than the past Phoebe, and said in only two breaths,

"Chris, you know sarcasm is just a defense mechanism people use because they can't handle letting themselves delve any deeper into the painful void of hurtful emotions they most likely suppressed and don't want to ever have to see again. But it's bad because the longer you suppress something the harder it is to face when the day comes that you _have_ to, and it always hurts more because for the first time your eyes are _really_ opened and without sarcasm as your shield anymore, and you haven't ever bothered to find another way to deal with hurt, there's nothing to protect you from the pain and you're going to get the full blast of emotions and you wouldn't have to if you just learned to _talk_ about it, now."

13 Chris stared at her, mouth slightly opened. "Okay… could you repeat that?"

"Sweetie, I simplified it to the point that a kindergartener could understand," The counselor said gently, not meaning any offense.

The boy continued to stare at her, saying dazedly, "Well excuse me that English is my second language."

The ones from the past stared at the adult Chris. "I thought you were from San Francisco," Piper pointed out, perplexed.

"I am," he responded simply. "But that doesn't mean that I was with my parents during the years I learned to talk."

Future Phoebe looked astounded. "That's the first thing you've ever said to me about growing up Up There." She paused. "Then again, I thought they spoke English Up There, too."

"Oh, yeah," said 13 Chris sarcastically. "Because we all know how only American and British folk die and become Elders. I mean, really. Everyone else is immortal."

Future Phoebe sighed. Apparently sarcasm was just in his nature.

The ones from the past were looking at Chris with pronounced confusion and skepticism.

"Why would you grow up in Elder Land?" demanded Leo incredulously. "No one's allowed up there unless they died."

"I can't tell you that," responded Chris curtly. Yeah, like he was going to tell that jerk why his life started out completely wrong even from the very beginning.

Future Phoebe, dropping the 'Up There' thing, set herself back on course.

"Chris," the future Charmed One tried again. "I know it's hard, but you can't just tell teacher they don't know what their talking about-- they went to college for years to study their subjects--"

"But still, somehow, they remain oblivious to the effects their words might have on someone who knows their subject even better than they," the boy said as if automatically. He wasn't even in the room, or so to speak.

"And what effects might those be?" queried F. Phoebe, as though forcing herself not to cry. Something deeper was taking place than the two were letting on, all the past ones could see that.

The boy shook his head. "It was four years ago. I'm over it."

The older Phoebe looked surprised. "You are, are you? Well, I'm not. And I wasn't even as close as you two were, sweetie. Anything you might be suppressing is bad, especially with all the magical influence-- I don't want to wake up and find you're a Fury, or something worse."

"Already been a Fury, remember?" 13 Chris reminded her with a half smile.

Future Phoebe glared playfully. "And you are the only person I know who actually had _fun_ reeking havoc on the city and trying to kill your relatives."

"Yeah… those were the days," said the boy, smiling fondly, reminiscently.

Future Phoebe rolled her eyes in playful exasperation, but soon returned to her serious state.

"Chris, talk to me, sweetie. I can help. Not only I am just the school counselor, but I've got my empathy and--"

"And I can block that and everything else you've got," 13 Chris cut her off, not warmly.

The counselor glared. "You can't block out my annoying voice."

The boy glared back. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

Future Phoebe sighed in frustration. "Really, honey, I can help you! I know what you're going through, what you're feeling."

"No you don't," 13 Chris said with a sudden, almost frightening cold sharpness. "Don't you _ever_ assume that you do. You don't know what happened. You don't know what she said to me. You don't know what my reaction was because you don't know _me_. _You do not know what I'm feeling_!"

Without another word he opened the door and left, leaving yet another shocked stunned silence in his wake. Before Piper, Paige, Phoebe, and Leo could collect the will to speak, though, blue orbs filled the room and Wyatt materialized. That stopped everything.

"Hey, Pheebs, what's up?" he asked, concerned.

"How did you know to orb right now?" Future Phoebe asked with a sigh. "How did you know anything _was_ up?"

"Your distress signal just went crazy," the blonde said, brushing it aside. "So what happened?"

But instead of answering, older Phoebe asked, "Wy, how do you get Chris to talk to you? I mean, he tells you everything. How do you do it?"

For a moment it looked as if Wyatt was going to tell her politely where she should shove it, but he seemed to stop himself. He considered her seriously for a moment. To the ones from 2004, it looked as if he really wouldn't risk saying anything to jeopardize his "friend's" trust. At last he sighed.

"I don't know what to tell you. You just gotta be there and let him know that you're not going anywhere, you know? He'll come to you when he's ready. There's really no way in hell he'll tell you anything before that. Everyone has to figure that out before they try to go and pry. _It just won't work._"

Every person in the room smiled when he said this. Yeah, they had figured that out. It was just funny how simply and matter-of-factly he had said it.

Smile fading slightly, Future Phoebe took a breath. "Has he talked to you about Jessie lately?" she asked somewhat reluctantly.

The way Wyatt tensed didn't go unnoticed by the room's occupants. "Why do you ask about her?" He inquired with an unintentional sharpness. F. Phoebe sighed and shook her head. "He didn't throw another kid out of a window again, did he?" Wyatt pressed. "Oh, shoot. It was on the third floor wasn't it?"

Phoebe's future counterpart laughed. "Thank God he didn't," she grinned. "He would have been sent to more people than just me. No, just an outburst in class about suicide."

Wyatt grimaced.

Before they could get further, however, the time remote geared up and they felt themselves being hurtled forward into the future.

"Who was Jessie?" Paige repeated. "And how did Phoebe and Wyatt know about her, too? Why was she so important to you all?"

"I can't tell you. Future consequences." Chris said, happy to say his annoying catch phrase again.

He hadn't liked the suspense that was building in that office. He had been sure that Phoebe was going to say something to Wyatt like, "Well, he's _your _brother" and positive Wyatt would reply,

"Well he's_ your_ nephew."

And his entire cover would have been blown wide open. If that had happened, he would have been glad at least that Piper and Leo hadn't figured out that they had abused him. He wouldn't have been able to handle the look of horror and guilt on their faces that would have been plastered there for weeks on end. He almost laughed, too, thinking about what their reactions would have been like if they found out what really happened when he was out of school with "Schizophrenic Shock". They would have placed themselves as his undying servants for the rest of Time.

"Yes, you _can_ tell us," Piper snapped, tearing him out of his thoughts rather rudely. Well, she wouldn't be placing herself in servitude anytime soon. "I've already told you, if you want us to trust you, you will stop with the 'future consequences' crap. Who was the broad?"

Was it answer enough when Chris lost control just long enough to throw the woman to the ground with a violent slash of telekinesis? "Don't you EVER call Jess a broad, EVER AGAIN!" He shouted, unable to stop himself. Piper was furious as she scrambled back to her feet.

There was no doubt, had the time remote not chosen that precise moment to stop, there would have been more powers flying, but as it was, the time remote_ did_ chose that moment to stop.

Piper, Leo, and Phoebe went flying, but Paige took Chris' hand just in time. She gave him a soft smile as they went to go help the others up, Chris deliberately helping Phoebe to her feet rather than Piper or Leo. They avoided each other throughout this stop, needless to say.

They were somewhere in the mountains. The very _high_ mountains. Everywhere they looked was snow, ice, and rough mountain ridges, not to mention their icy breath in front of their faces. As soon as they landed, they had heard the sound of metal on metal clashing, echoing ten times louder off the mountains in the cold air. They turned to see two figures in the near distance going at it with swords, with six other figures watching the match.

Chris was confused and murmured more to himself than anyone else, "This isn't… possible… this is at least a year after that…" What he didn't say was: This was after Piper had died. After Wyatt turned. This was the year I had abandoned magic in order to flee… from the wrath of the Elders.


	9. beats me

**Disclaimer: Oh you'd like for me to deny ownership, wouldn't you? Well that's too bad!--- you'll sue me? Fine, I don't own Charmed. Or Batman Begins. Are you happy now?**

_

* * *

Chris was confused. "This isn't… possible… this is at least a year after that…" What he didn't say was: This was after Piper had died. After Wyatt turned. This was the year I had abandoned magic in order to flee… from the wrath of the Elders._

"Piper must have held it down longer that the other time," Paige mused. "Where are you? Young you, I mean," she added as Chris made to throw out a sarcastic comment about opening her eyes.

He smiled mischievously. "Take a wild guess."

Eyes narrowed the sisters and Leo moved forward, huddling together slightly for warmth as they scanned the scarfed faces in the small band of spectators. They were all clothed and scarfed so heavily it was difficult to make out any distinguishing facial features. The only ones who weren't bogged down in winter-wear were the two fighting, but they were moving so fast everything about them was blurred anyway… except--

"Is that that girl?" Phoebe asked suddenly, spotting a pair of deep indigo blue eyes in the crowd as the girl read her book, not paying much attention to the swordplay taking place. "The one from your class… Paris?"

"Uh huh," Chris nodded what looked like absently, but Phoebe could tell there was something more going on behind those unnatural blue eyes as they fell upon the now fourteen year old girl. She couldn't quite put her finger on it though.

Paige squinted harder at the faces. "Okay, I give up. Where are you?"

"I'm the one being forced back. Now I'm the one forcing Gonivere back… Now---"

"Shorter or taller?" interrupted Paige, now watching the two fighting who were obviously Chris and whoever Gonivere was. Their swords were clashing at the speed of light, glinting silver blurs, and the racket they made was deafening, echoing off the mountainsides.

Chris scowled. "Shorter."

"Where are we?" asked Phoebe, looking at the endless snowy mountain range, not so much interested in the duel as the others were.

"Wilczek Land, in the Franz Josef archipelago," he replied, eyes taking in the familiar scenery with a closed expression. It was only when he was met by the vacant stares that he realized it wasn't a place they knew. "It's, um, an island in the Artic Ocean in northwestern Russia. In your time it's believed to be too cold to be inhabitable by humans, but there are a few native tribes… and it's kind of a secret base for the Waun Gladior."

"The Waun who?" repeated Phoebe, uncomprehendingly.

Chris looked somewhat reluctant. "The Waun Gladior. They're a discrete organization against human evildoers. They've got connections everywhere around the world and are sort of like some seriously ass kicking vigilantes. After a certain --- _Event_--- I had to disappear for a while, so I came here to learn to fight without using magic. These people here-- they're the best. There isn't a style or weapon they don't know or can't teach you. Gonivere-- that man I'm fighting-- was my personal mentor, the leader of the Waun Gladior's right hand man. And he taught me _a lot_."

"Event?" said Piper, speaking to him for the first time, and not kindly. "What event would make you have to disappear-- and not use magic?"

"Something… _upset_… the magical community. Something I can't tell you about. But I had to get away, and as long as I used magic they could track me, so I had to come here, where magic doesn't exist, basically."

"Why would you have to disappear?" pressured Leo. Then oh-so slyly, "Unless you were responsible for the… event?"

Chris looked away. "I can't tell you about it. Really."

The Charmed ones and Leo, deciding to let it rest for a while, turned and moved closer to see the 14 Chris' 'training session'. Even if Chris said Gonivere was the best, the two seemed evenly matched, both moving faster than the sisters and Leo could make out their features. Suddenly, a sword went flying and the clashing ceased mercifully. 14 Chris, his back to them, had his own weapon pointed at his mentor's throat. The onlookers "Ooo" ed, laughing. They were all grown men except the fourteen year old girl, who glanced up only briefly to see what had happened, before returning to her book.

"I win," said 14 Chris, and they could hear the slight smile, even though they couldn't see his face. To their surprise Gonivere replied, smiling himself,

"Not quite." The two looked down. The thirty-eight year old vigilante had a knife held to the boy's side, previously concealed by his light, black furred jacket. The audience howled with laughter. Gonivere continued mildly, "I told you to disarm me, Nierain."

"I did," protested 14 Chris-- or Nierain, whatever that meant. They both let their weapons fall, Gonivere sheathing his knife and Chris leaning idly against his sword. Gonivere noticed, his black hawk-like eyes catching everything.

"I told you not to do that," he said sharply. "That is a formidable weapon and you disgrace it by _sitting_ on it." 14 Chris sighed and sheathed it at his side. Gonivere continued as he went to retrieve his own sword, "If you believe you disarmed me, your definition of disarm is wrong. It means 'to make harmless'. Was my sword the only thing that could harm you?"

14 Chris turned to him exasperatedly, and for the first time they could see his face clearly.

They were stunned.

He had changed, aged a lot for just a year… or perhaps they only though that because the hair that was always falling into his face, where his center bangs had grown out, was pure, shock white. Just two streaks of white hair amidst the sandy brown, framing his face. But there were also two more thing that immediately jumped out at them.

His eyes. Though on the surface they were bored and still startlingly green, beneath-- and very visible-- they were haunted. Agonized. Grief stricken. Betrayed. Lost. Afraid. And so, _so_ very haunted. It was a hurricane of mind-shatteringly broken emotions, so terrible it was almost impossible to meet his eyes, let alone imagine what had transpired to make him feel such a way so hopelessly permanently. There was no doubt whatever had happened to his eyes was also linked to his now white hair.

Then there was the scar across his face. Well, not really all the way _across_ his face, but a very noticeable horizontal burn mark across the left side, maybe two inches wide and four inches across. It looked as though his had been burned by the flat of a sword.

Immediately the girls and Leo gasped and Leo, for a flicker of a moment, recognized the scar as a symbol of… something. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it still gave him a very uneasy feeling. It was a symbol of something… bad.

"Good Grief!" Paige exclaimed. "What the heck happened to you?"

"The Event."

Paige gave him the evil eye.

"No, but how was I supposed to know you were stashing knives up your sleeves? Does it look like I have x-ray vision to you?" The young version of Chris replied to his mentor's earlier question wearily.

"You should," Gonivere replied blatantly. "If you want to live. Besides that, you fought well. But remember--- _mind your surroundings!_ Snow melts, you slip unless you're careful; ice breaks if you push it hard enough." He swung his sword around in a circle and 14 Chris drew his and held it at the ready.

"The goal this time?" 14 Chris queried.

"Try to unbalance me. Disorient, if you will." They clanked their weapons in a salute and then the swordplay began again, as did the betting men in the audience.

"Gonivere's definitely got this one," predicted one man, nodding. "He's been fighting longer than Nierain's even been alive."

"I dunno," shrugged another. "Nierain did get his name for a reason."

"Wait--- Nierain is _you_?" exclaimed Phoebe, not the brightest crayon in the box. Chris gave her a look and nodded, as if to say 'not the brightest crayon in the box, are you?'. Phoebe blushed.

"What _does_ Nierain mean?" inquired Paige.

Chris pulled a face. "Well… it's kind of hard to explain."

"I'm sure you'll try your best, though," said Paige confidently, patting him on the shoulder. Chris gave her a look, too, before sighing thoughtfully.

"Okay… well, you know how some people say if you put a baby in the water it will swim because it doesn't know it can't?" The girls nodded. "Well, it's kind of like that… certain limitations didn't really apply to me because I didn't know what they were, or that they should."

Their eyes went wide in understanding, but Chris knew that each was interpreting his words a little differently than the others. He looked away, back at the match.

14 Chris was mainly blocking, his mind obviously somewhere else… Somewhere future Chris' mind still went when he couldn't see a light beyond the blackness when it was bearing down on him the most. His mentor, and soon to be close friend, noticed the lack of effort disapprovingly.

"Nierain!" he barked, giving a harder swipe than he would have, getting the boy's attention. "Get your mind back here this instant!"

"It-- is!" snapped 14 Chris, pausing in effort to throw off the sudden harder attack. How was he going to disorient Gonivere if he couldn't even get past his offense?

"Nierain, why do we even have these exercises if you're not even going to fight with _heart_? You have to _want_ to hurt me!" The swords swished faster than before, but it was all still just automatic.

"Why would I _want_ to hurt you? I'm not mad at you about anything---" he was still simply blocking the lightening quick blows, unable to form any way of unbalancing his mentor in his mind.

"Oh, you will be," his mentor said grimly, bearing down harder and harder. "…'Cause we're going to talk about your parents."

By the way the boy faltered, they could tell if there was any button Gonivere could have push, he had nailed it on the head with a hammer.

"Parent-son problems?" sneered Piper. Chris threw her a silencing death-look.

"No," retorted 14 Chris. "We are not."

"Nierain's going to win this one," all of the on watchers said in perfect unison. Paris even looked up from her apparently fascinating book, open concern and apprehension on her serene elfin features.

"You're parents' deaths were your fault and your fault alone!" Gonivere accused, bashing the ever-living tar out of that button. "You let your parents die! You killed them!"

14 Chris' reaction was astounding. Suddenly he had the upper hand and was forcing his teacher back, violently. "Don't you say that! You weren't there!"

"I have my connections--- 43 year old woman found brutally slaughtered, what is believed to be the remains of her husband, second son mysteriously vanishes-- they think you're either dead or their killer; and seeing as you're not dead--"

The swords were flying so fast Gonivere was actually working to block the furious attacks.

"SHUT UP! JUST _SHUT UP_! You have NO idea---!"

"You hated them--- admit it, Nierain!"

"Of course I hated them!" 14 Chris retorted angrily, all but screaming. "And I still hate them! I hate them for everything they did to me-- everything they're _still _doing to me! Even in death they are still torturing me, and I still HATE THEM!"

He pushed Gonivere's sword aside long enough to grab his shoulders and flip over the man's head, put a heel to his back, and in turn flip his teacher over his own head, landing Gonivere on his back. The boy held his sword to his throat. "Disorienting enough?" 14 Chris panted, catching his breath in the freezing cold air. To his grudging disbelief Gonivere smiled.

"Indeed it was. But you just can't seem to learn-- _mind your surroundings._" With that said, the older took his sword and pierced the ground at 14 Chris' feet; immediately the ice cracked and sent the boy plunging into subzero degrees water.

The men on the sidelines burst out laughing, always the cheery group. Paris rolled her eyes.

14 Chris placed his quaking hands firmly on the solid ice and somersaulted out of the negative temperature water and into the negative temperature air, shaking uncontrollably, wet bi-colored hair sopping into his face.

"Th-that i-is s-s-so no-n-not fun-ny," he stuttered, succeeding only in making the men howl louder.

Glowering, water still streaming from his hair and clothes, the boy snatched his sword and flung it at the audience. They didn't have time to move before the ice beneath them shattered and they were submerged as well-- all except Paris, who was conveniently placed at a spot where the ice chose to stay solid. The boy smiled.

"I st-stand corrected--- i-it i-is f-f-funny."

Gonivere and Paris both rolled their eyes. The boy wrinkled his nose at his mentor. "Just b-be gl-glad there w-w-weren't any f-fish!"

**Reviews**

**THANK YOU everyone who reviewed! I'm sorry I can't reply to everyone personally, but I haven't updated in a week and I only have one more minute before I gotta do my homework then go to my academic team meet… dern. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reviewing! I love hearing feedback!**


	10. The split

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. I admit defeat after ten chapters… Sometimes. :plots wickedly ways to kill Arron Spelling and take the show for my own:**

* * *

The time remote geared up and they were yanked forward unceremoniously. For less than a second there was silence, then Paige burst,

"Okay, what was the deal with you and your parents? I mean, I hated my parents-- my adopted parents-- for most of my life, but I still loved them, especially after I lost them. What'd they do to make you hate them like that?" she added in a whisper, "Even in death…?"

Phoebe shifted where she stood, wondering if she should intervene. But then the part of her that couldn't hold out felt a sudden urge to take the situation into her own hands and spill his secret then and there. Luckily, though, her mouth had a mind of its own and asked a different question, directing the attention away from the not-so-conversational previous one.

"Who was Paris? I mean, why would she leave her only home to go with you to who knows where for who knows what reason? And if you were trying to disappear, why would you let her come with you in the first place?"

Chris inhaled slowly, looking down. There, again, was that look on his face, the one she recognized vaguely but couldn't quite say where she had seen it before, or what it was. He let his breath out even slower. "Paris," he said, " was a really close friend. There wasn't anything anyone could say to convince her she shouldn't be by my side if I was… struggling. She always stood by me, especially when everyone else backed down. She knew I didn't really want to have to leave, so she came with me and we left everything behind together." He gave a small laugh. "And she didn't exactly make her presence known until it was too late to send her back."

The ones from the past stared mutely. Whatever response they had anticipated, it was not for him to be so completely honest and straightforward.

Phoebe suddenly gasped, however, as Chris let out a cry of shock and pain, crumbling to the ground, face taut as he forced himself not to scream again.

"Chris-- what is it?" she was at his side without delay.

Sweat beginning to break out across his forehead, he choked, "Bianca-- she's trying to-- summon me--"

The sisters exchanged looks of confusion. How could someone resist a summoning spell? It wasn't exactly something they'd heard of before, and they were probably the most active witches out there. The boy's muffled cry brought them back to the moment and he gasped,

"I can't-- keep it back-- much longer--!" He halted abruptly, screwing his face up with the effort and pain. "You have to keep-- going without me. I'll-- find my way-- back to you."

"Chris, is there any way we can fight this?" Paige asked urgently, kneeling down beside him with Phoebe and ignoring his last comment. At least she didn't want to give him back to the assassin without a fight, Phoebe thought vaguely. "Is there any way to stop it?"

This was all unfamiliar territory. Throwing off summoning spells had never been on any of Piper's quizzes, but Chris was like a walking Book of Shadows.

He shook his head. "No-- Just go! Finish the Elders'-- assignment--! The date is-- somewhere around-- around--" He faltered, racking his memory furiously. The exact date was somewhere in there, he _knew_. He was good with numbers, it had to be in there somewhere. But the violent wrenching of the summoning spell kept him from being able to pull it forward. Why hadn't he just taken the time when he had it, when they first asked? The vicious jerking was almost to the point of unbearable now. Still, he forced his mind to dig. It had been around his birthday… maybe a day or two after… _When Was It?_ He couldn't resist anymore. Picking a day, he gasped,

"Eleven nineteenth, two-thousand twenty---"

And was consumed in golden summoning lights.

Piper, Phoebe, Paige, and Leo stared. They couldn't go after him. They had no idea where Bianca was, or even what _year_ she was in. They just had to trust their whitelighter could handle himself in his traitorous fiancée's presence. Trust he could find them again, whatever year they happened to be in.

"Eleven--- November," Paige counted off. "November 19th. Year 2020. Great. Now how are we supposed to find the date in every time period we come across?"

Piper shrugged uselessly, somewhat dazed. "I… dunno. Maybe the spell will work now. We have the date… just not Chris."

"Can it work without him?" queried Paige, frowning thoughtfully.

Again Piper shrugged. "We're already in the future. Maybe magic will say 'ah what the heck, they're already there, what can a few more years hurt?' and let us."

Phoebe considered. It was un-Piper-ish to quote something an inanimate thing would say/think. Especially in such simple terms. She mentally shook herself. "It's worth a shot," she determined.

But at that moment, the time remote slammed to a jarring halt, sending them all flying.

Paige groaned and got up, rubbing her arm tentatively where she had landed on it. "How come Chris never fell?" she demanded, inspecting the now forming bruise forlornly, but Piper stopped her from speaking further by holding up a hand. They were in a large bedroom where a strange scene unfolding before them. And it was only by a lucky chance that someone had cried out at the moment of their impact, or they might have been discovered.

"You know, you could have avoiding this all," said a deep, malevolent voice that sent shivers down their spines. They all recognized it as the voice that came along with being the Source. The effect that felt as though they had had ice water doused over them was unmistakable.

And the Source was there. In the bedroom. Sitting in a chair next to the bed-- where lay a teenaged Chris with the two streaks of shock-white hair and haunted green eyes, even more so than they had last seen. Again Leo felt something within him stir when he saw the scar across the boy's cheek, but still didn't understand why. The half-blood had bruises and bloody gashes covering every exposed bit of skin. His shirt was also ripped, exposing even more raggedly torn flesh. His eyes were staring, a distinguishable note of anguish glossing them.

Phoebe's heart fell like an icy stone into her stomach. He had been tortured. Whipped. Beaten. _He just can't get away from it, can he?_ She thought, swallowing hard. There was no doubt he had been the one to scream as they landed. The Source must had done something else to cause him pain. And speaking of...

The Source had his back to them, but they could see he was wearing the customary black robes and hood. And it fit on this particular Source more than they had ever seen on any other. Maybe it was because it seemed to enhance even further the power they could all feel emanating from his very being. "If you would just forget that stupid concept of good and evil and join me, this never would have happened again. And stopping going to the Resistance wouldn't hurt either…" he added as an after thought.

"Killing innocents is evil. Period," replied the battered one quietly. They could all hear how it hurt to talk. They could all see it in his tormented eyes. "I won't."

"You won't what?" said the Source, obviously not paying that much attention.

"Fry tennis shoes," retorted the fifteen year old softly.

The Source laughed suddenly. A real laugh. Confusion flicked across Chris' face, "What's so funny? My sarcasm hasn't amused you in ages-- and if I'm allowed to use it again I might have to stop."

"No," came the man's amused response. "I just remembered how Jessie once said that exact same thing. Actually I think I may have that video, still." He thoughtfully waved his hand and a slender disk appeared in his grasp. The ones from the past frowned. _Geez, everyone knew this Jessie, didn't they_? The Source hit a button and a 3D projection appeared between him and the bed.

The scene it showed was of a Phoebe, maybe eight years in the future, chatting to a friendly looking, tall brunette man and a ten year old Wyatt. Suddenly they heard two voices calling from a distance, "Paige, Paige! Look what we can do!"

Clumsily the camera turned to face two children, running across the park to the small crowd. One was a little boy with a mop of unruly brown hair and vivid green eyes. The other was a girl with glowingly bright golden curls and startlingly brilliant blue eyes. Paige's laugh was heard, and they knew she was the one holding the camera. "Alright, what have you two figured out this time?" She asked, laughing, the two's enthusiasm contagious.

The girl and boy exchanged breathless smiles, each putting an arm over the other's shoulders.

"Okay. One, two, pickle!" They jumped simultaneously, doing a somersault in midair, and landed on their feet, all in perfect unison. Future Paige, Phoebe, and the man all laughed, clapping.

"Come on, Wyatt!" called the girl, they now figured must be Jessie.

"Let's have a trio!" continued the youngest Chris, hair scattering into his face. He wrinkled his nose and tried to blow it out of his eyes.

The camera turned to see Wyatt's reaction. The little blonde boy laughed, shaking his head. "And break every bone in my body? I'll pass."

"I won't," said Phoebe suddenly. She had her cell phone to her ear.

"Won't what?" came Paige's voice, confused, not seeing the slender ear piece.

"Fry tennis shoes," said Jessie absently.

"Jess," said Chris, in something like a cautious voice. He suddenly looked nervous. Jessie's bright blue eyes widened.

The Source cut the projection off abruptly. "Remember how active and energetic she used to be?" he said softly, thoughtfully. Chris just stared at the spot the projection had been and didn't reply. The Source seemed slightly annoyed at his lack of response and added indifferently. "Hm. And now imagine her lying in a four foot pine box with maggots crawling through her eye sockets and a worm living in her decomposing tongue."

Chris' face snapped up to meet the Source's, his eyes wide and startled. He looked confused. "Why… why would you say that?" the boy whispered, and for the first time there was a vulnerability in his voice they'd never heard before.

Mutely, coldly, the Source stood and flamed out. For a moment Chris stared, gaping, at the spot he had once stood, tears gradually welling in his eyes. Tears that would never fall. But tears that wanted to, so, so badly.

Phoebe felt his anguish, though he was blocking her without even realizing she was there. She felt the pain, and she wanted him to cry. Tears were so much easier to watch than this silent internal struggle they had to witness. Anything was better than this, she thought, crying softly herself.

"Come on," Paige from her time whispered. "Let's get somewhere to say the spell. I can't watch this." She, too, had tears in her eyes.

They all took hands and invisi-orbed out. The four reappeared outside a door where raised voices were inside. Their chanting wouldn't be overheard, the way the other demonic ones were shouting.

"IT'S TOO RISKY!" one yelled. "He won't join us! Admit it! He'll keep helping them behind our backs, no matter how we punish him afterwards! His will is too strong!"

"Behind our backs?" scoffed another. "He _openly_ defied us! He went straight to the Resistance and put a shield around the whole damn planet! He didn't even care that he would be tortured when we brought him back! And he _knew_ it would be just like every other time--- _he just didn't care_!"

"The boy doesn't value his own life," said a calmer, but no less evil voice. "Those are the most dangerous ones of all."

"I will deal with him," said the Source's voice. "He may have a strong will, but he has been an emotional wreck ever since Jessica died seven years ago. It won't require much to put him back in his place again. To break him."

"But what if you push him straight into the hands of the Resistance?" pressed the second voice. "What if they actually take him in-- _trust_ him? Not just until he is strong enough to leave, again, but _permanently_?"

"They won't trust him. He has too much history for them to willingly," asserted the Source. "Nobody in their right minds would trust a fallen angel such as he."

"But they did," retorted the first voice. "He went to them and they helped him. What if they realize where he's being held-- and against his will? They might try to come and take him!"

There was the sound of a demon being vanquished. "Anyone else doubt me?" the Source asked lightly. No one answered.

The Charmed Ones and Leo shared a silent, confused look, each knowing what the others were feeling... thinking. Paige finally pulled out the paper with the spell on it and handed it to the middle sister. They chanted tonelessly,

"_Time of deeds, time of future_

_Take us to another era_

_Help us complete our task_

_The date now unmasked_

_Take us to November 19,_

_2020."_

They were instantly consumed in golden beads of light.

* * *

22 Chris watched as the sisters chanted the spell inside the little seeing pool and turned back to Bianca. They were in a silver bubble, drifting out of the reaches of time, able to look into any era they wanted inside thousands of similar seeing pools. The empty space outside and around them resembled a spider web and their own silver bubble glided along an endless strand of it.

"You can't keep me here forever," he said for the dozenth time, not expecting her to give a response since she had maintained her silence for so long. She merely smiled again, that You-have-no-idea-what-you've-gotten-into-and-I-do smile that made his blood run cold. But… his eyes narrowed as her noticed a gleam of gold on her finger. His heart did something strange, but what exactly it meant he had no idea.

"I didn't give you that wedding ring," he whispered, his voice sounding distant in his own ears.


	11. conversations by a grave

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't get me started.**

**A/N: Tell me if the changing of point of views gets confusing. I'm trying, here.**

They reappeared in a large room in what looked like a daycare center and were momentarily confused. What on earth would a sixteen or seventeen year old be doing here? But then they spotted Chris, lying on his stomach on the floor with a little brunette boy maybe two years old sitting across from him, giggling and waving a red ball as big as his head delightedly. Phoebe almost squealed out loud, looking at such a cute little toddler. Piper however, felt strange. The little one had silver-grey eyes… like someone they had seen not too long ago… but who? And his facial features also looked vaguely familiar, but maybe from someone else's.

Then they noticed a rather annoyed looking older man standing behind Chris, getting more frustrated by the minute. Chris noticed this without even looking up, and said, "You can go away any time you like, you know."

"You know I can't do that," growled the bigger man, crossing his arms. "Can't leave you alone on the base."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Come on, I've been here for at least five months. What could I possibly be planning to do that would take this long? You might have noticed I'm not exactly patient." He made a funny face at the little boy, sending him into happy squeals.

"Maybe if you actually gave us a reason to trust you, but noooo, you won't even give us your last name!" the man ranted, and Chris mouthed the words silently with him, making exaggerated expression that the man couldn't see, he'd heard the speech so many times. "Come out of nowhere with all these powers and knowledge with no plausible explanation. All the demons knowing you, calling you 'master' and blood traitor all at the same time…" and so forth.

While Chris also played with his little nephew, he was scribbling something down on a notepad, multiple papers scattered around him. He was very good at multitasking, they could see. The little boy orbed the ball on top of his kid-uncle's head, and when Chris jumped, clapped gleefully.

"Hey," Chris said in a mock-scolding tone, wiggling his finger. "That's not very nice, Logan." He picked up the ball and bounced it on his nephew's head lightly. The little one, Logan, giggled and began rolling it around on the floor, making the other toys around him levitate then spin in circles around the two. Chris watched idly for a moment before saying, "You know you scare me sometimes, don't you?"

"Are you done deciphering that, yet?" demanded the burly man standing behind him, annoyance drawing all his features.

"Yep, just need a globe," replied Chris, barely glancing down at his papers. "Mind running off to get me one, Dev?"

The man sneered. "Yeah, right. Nice try, kid. But you can't get rid of me that easy."

Chris stuck out his tongue, but his shoulders slumped slightly, even if the man, Dev, didn't notice. Chris glanced around the room, and, spotting one in a corner a few feet away, reached a hand and the globe flew into it. The boy began comparing something from his paper onto the globe, finger tracing along the longitude and latitude lines to meet somewhere in northern Asia.

"The next place it's going to be is in Finland. Then it'll be in Zlatoust, Russia. Here," he handed it to the eagerly awaiting Dev. "Take that to Archwood and tell him he and the Elders both can---"

"Kiss your ass, got it," said Dev, and wiccanly teleported out. Chris watched him leave, face void of emotion, before turning back to Logan.

"Loge, I gotta leave, now. I'll come back tomorrow. Okay?"

Logan's eyes went wide. "Kwis," he complained in an adorable two-year old voice. "No go! Stay an pway with Loge." Chris smiled slightly at that, but ruffled his nephew's hair nonetheless.

"See ya later; I'll be back tomorrow." And Chris… _flamed_ out.

The ones from the past gasped. "He can flame!" exclaimed Paige. "I thought only upper level demons flamed!"

"Leo, orb after him, now!" commanded Piper, grabbing his forearm. Paige took Phoebe's hand and the four orbed quickly after him.

* * *

"_I didn't give you that wedding ring."_

"I know," said the 22 year old Bianca indifferently. "You missed quite a lot in those months you were gone. The Resistance was crushed. Only about two dozen left alive. Wyatt offered me the chance to join him again, honestly this time, and since it didn't look as if you were coming back, I did." She twisted the band around her finger thoughtfully as she spoke, admiring its beautiful sheen. "We got close, Chris. Very close. He needed me and I needed him, on a more intimate level than work partners, too. And with Monica's and his kid out of the way---"

"Wait," Chris interrupted, heart catching in his throat. "What happened to Logan? What do you mean he was out of the way?"

Bianca raised an eyebrow, pleased she was getting some kind of a rise out of him. "Logan was tortured. Then killed."

Chris stared, all color completely gone from his face. Struggling for breath the boy fell to his knees, all speech escaping him. Groping for words, he at last stammered, "D-dead? But--- but he was--- Wyatt's own son… he was just--- _four_. No… he can't be---"

"He is dead, Christopher," said Bianca, amused. "The precious little curls, the silver, delighted eyes, rosy cheeks, happy smile---"

"STOP IT!" Chris screamed. "JUST STOP IT! Wyatt would never torture a four year old child. Would NEVER kill his own son! You're just lying to get me to break down, I know you are!"

"And after their kid was out of the way, nothing was holding me back from having a successful marriage with your brother, the wonderful Source of all Evil," Bianca continued as though nothing had interrupted her calm recounting of events. "Nothing, of course, except you. So I went back to get you, bring you back for execution, and _then_ live happily ever after."

Chris stared at her mutely. Nothing she was saying was registering. His nephew… his nephew wasn't dead. Chris hadn't abandoned him just to let him be killed. It wasn't possible.

Holding onto that little piece of rapturous denial, Chris took a shuddering breath and said, "Then why did Wyatt vanquish you to get back at me?"

"A detour," said Bianca simply. "We had planned it. He was going to resurrect me all along. He just wanted to see you fall one last time before I vanquished you."

"So you admit it? You really don't believe I vanquished you?"

"Course not," scoffed the assassin. "I just wanted to pit your precious relatives against you. I swear, watching you in pain is just everyone's favorite past time."

"I noticed," Chris said sourly. Bianca smiled.

* * *

They reappeared in a cemetery. The cemetery in San Francisco. It was dusk, and smoke and fires filled the horizon. In the distance the building were crumbling in decay, or at least the ones that weren't already burned down or collapsed. For a moment Chris simply gazed out at the horror with the closed expression he had worn all the way here, while the sisters and Leo gaped, dumbfounded. Yes, they had heard the world of darkness speech, but before it had just been that--- a speech. Words, and ones that held no actual meaning to them, at that. Now they saw it with their own eyes and suddenly their whole situation seemed more real. Like the moments leading up to this were merely parts of an elaborate dream, and now they were awake. The smell of scorched earth also livened it up.

At last Chris turned back to the gravestones… and completely froze.

* * *

"So, what are you planning to do now?" asked 22 Chris, watching his ex-fiancé's face warily.

"Hold you here until you snap from the strain of watching your whitelighter spill all your secrets to your family without you there to stop her," responded Bianca quite indifferently, eyes on the pool.

Scowling, Chris took a moment before turning back to face the pool himself. Suddenly he wondered what would happen if he stepped out of the bubble. Was there even oxygen outside the reaches of time? It kind of looked like space out there… and if that was the case he would surely die the moment he did, if he even could. But what if he did manage to, somehow, and get _inside_ the pool? Would he appear in there and be with them?

He shook his head, as though to shake the thoughts away. _Yeah_, he thought, _I'm losing it… wouldn't be the first time, and sure won't be the last._

* * *

The grave beside him looked as if it had been vandalized. There were scorch marks and even spray paint slashes everywhere, not to mention broken beer bottles and shot glasses. Angrily, emotionally, Chris swiped out his arm, sending everything crashing away faster than the eye could follow, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't get the paint off. From what the Charmed Ones and Leo could see, there were very rude and offensive words written permanently there now. Phoebe felt sickened. Whoever could do something like that was just mean, and cruel. It was appalling how low some people could sink. The dead should never be disrespected like that.

"_Let the object of objection _

_become but a dream_

_As I cause the scene _

_to be unseen!"_

Chris said sharply through his tears. A chicken popped to life in a puff of feathers. Angrily, Chris threw out his hand again and sent the chicken slamming into another gravestone a few meters away, killing it.

"_Let the object of objection_

_Become but a dream_

_As I cause the scene_

_To be unseen!"_

He shouted now, more vehemently. Nothing happened, except that the chicken came back to life. Chris stomped his foot and suddenly a visible telekinesis shot out from him like a rope and the chicken was… vanquished? Poor little chicken. Tears were now streaming down his face, and he did nothing to try and stem the flow. He didn't even seem to notice.

"_LET THE OBJECT OF OBJECTION_

_BECOME BUT A DREAM_

_AS I CAUSE THE SCENE_

_TO BE UNSEEN!"_

He screamed.

This time nothing at all happened. Chris folded to the ground, sobbing, and furiously trying to rub the audacities away by hand.

The ones from the past were shocked. They had, with reason, believed to find him in the middle of something evil or unlawful. But nothing like this. Phoebe was crying, as was Paige. Piper was just stunned. What was happening?

"Wh… who… why is he… reacting like this?" managed Piper at last in a soft, dazed voice. "I mean, I know that's really… horrible… that someone could do that… but wh…" she couldn't even finish the word. But they all knew what she meant.

"That's Jessie's grave," said a new, but very familiar voice. Orb lights appeared behind them and they turned to see the eldest Halliwell sister standing there, corporeal and with a dejected countenance.

She turned to her living sisters, who were speechless and gaping, without even saying hello and asked sharply, "What year are you from?"

Piper mouthed wordlessly at her before stammering eloquently, "_Prue?_"

Prue's lips twitched, but only slightly. She didn't smile. "Yes, Piper, it's me. I'm guessing this is before you found out I was a greylighter?"

"Grey… lighter?" repeated Paige, staring at the older sister she'd never met. She didn't know what else to say.

"It's a whitelighter that keeps their wiccan powers," said Leo, eyes locked on the newcomer as well. "Only the ones that did really great deeds and had a lot of power get to become greylighters after death. But why are you… here? Did you sense us and come to see why there were two of us?"

Prue eyed him thoughtfully, but not kindly. "What year?" she asked again in a sharper voice.

"2004," said Paige, the only one of the sisters that could speak, now.

"So you don't know who Chris is yet?"

"Well, kind of," began Paige. "I mean, he hasn't been born yet, but he came back to the past to stop this world from happening... Or will come… when he's 22. All we know about him beside that is that he was Wyatt's friend when they were kids."

Prue's expression suddenly became very closed and a door shut behind her eyes. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. Phoebe flinched at the harsh tone. Was this really her sister? She tried to get a read off her but received nothing.

"We came to get something for the Elders from our time," explained Leo, also wary of familiar stranger, "from the Transporting Archeohauge."

"Prue," said Piper, still mildly stunned, taking a step toward her big sister. "How… how are you? Are you… okay?"

"Okay?" repeated Prue as if this were the stupidest question ever. "What do you think? My charge is hysterical! How do you think I feel?"

"Charge?" Phoebe looked perplexedly at her, then her eyes went wide. She spun back to face Chris, who was still letting the tears fall freely as he tried desperately to rid the tombstone of the graffiti. So much anger emanated from him, so much pain and horror. So much grief and… guilt. "Chris is your charge?" she breathed.

* * *

"Secret number one," narrated Bianca, mildly pleased, highly enjoying this.

Chris' fingers clutched into fists at his sides as he looked at his once loved girlfriend. How could she feel nothing about this? _Nothing besides pleasure, that is_, he reminded himself grimly.

* * *

"Yes," said Prue softly, looking solemnly past her younger sisters to her charge. "He is."

An incredulous look passed over Leo's face. "Chris? No way. Why on earth would he require an ex-Charmed One as his greylighter? Why would he even require _any_ greylighter? The Charmed Ones didn't even warrant one, and he can't be _half_ as powerful as even _one_ of your sisters! There's nothing that special about him!"

Prue looked as if she was going to shoot flames from her eyes. "Don't underestimate my charge," she said softly, venomously. "Chris has powers that would make the Charmed Ones' look like child's play."

Piper scoffed. "Yeah, right. And Mom never had an affair with her whitelighter." She paused. "You do know about our half sister don't you? Paige?"

Prue actually smiled and gave Paige a giant hug, surprising everyone. "Yes, I knew the exact same moment ya'll did. And I know her in this time--- she's a greylighter, too. But for now, nice to meet you, Paige."

"Wait," said Paige, shocked. "I'm dead?"

**(A/N**: I know this would have changed when she was saved, b/c Chris said she was killed by the Titans and they changed that, but I like it this way better, so don't flame me. I know what I'm doing

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," said Prue when she realized what she'd revealed. "But don't get too worried, you got to pretend to be alive. It only took the Elders two days to tell you everything you needed to know about greylighting and assign you a charge. Then you got to go back and 'live' at the Manor, nothing changed except you could heal, now."

Everyone blinked. The initial shock of seeing their dead sister here was pretty much over, and Piper, Phoebe, and Leo were falling back into old habits, thinking back about here like they had before she died. The years when she was dead and unreachable just seemed like a dream (too).

"So, what's so cool about Chris that he would warrant 'super witch' as his whitelighter?" teased Phoebe, coming to wrap her arms around her sister's shoulders comfortably. "What are his amazing powers he neglected to tell us about?"

Prue smiled, patting Phoebe's head like a puppy. "Sorry, I can't tell you something like that."

Leo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because they're demonic. That's why he's always so secretive."

Prue cast him a sharp look, snarling, "Leonardo Nathanial Wyatt, don't you make me vanquish you right here in front of everyone, cause if you keep at my charge like that I swear I will. Might even use some of the neat tricks he taught me himself. God knows that'd cheer him up."

The ones from the past just couldn't seem to stop staring. This was the overprotective Prue they remembered, though, if nothing else had reassured them.

"Why would you rather vanquish your brother-in-law than hear him just _talk_ about Chris?" queried Paige, intrigued. She could tell Prue had meant what she'd said and wasn't the type big on bluffs. But even if he was her charge, she was being WAY too overprotective of him.

It seemed for a moment, as though Prue was debating something in her mind. They watched and waited expectantly as the woman leafed through pro's and con's of a decision they knew she was trying to make. At last she seemed to come to a definite decision and sighed. "Okay. I know Chris, and no matter how old he may be, he'd never tell you what you needed to know so you didn't question his every step. He'd never tell you why he is the way he is, so I will for him. I don't want you to give him any more of a hard time than you need to. He's been through enough already."

The Charmed Ones and Leo gaped. It was finally time. They would finally be able to find out the mystery that surrounded Chris Perry.

Prue sighed. "Okay, you guys. Ask away."

* * *

Chris was more than a little put out. He couldn't believe Prue would do this, especially with Jessie so closely concerned. The girl's death had almost torn charge and greylighter apart, and Chris had almost followed the blonde in committing suicide. As if reading his mind, another seeing pool drifted up into eyeshot.

Inside, it showed two figures sitting on the ground beneath a tall oak. One was a little boy, the other was a strange magical-looking creature with enormous wings with black plumage and sprinkled with a few scarlet feathers, and the body of… a wolf? Okay, it was a winged wolf. But even as interesting as that was, the boy might have been found far more interesting.

He looked about seven, but Chris knew he was nine, and he was unbelievably thin. For once he wasn't wearing long sleeves, and he and Bianca could see how bruises literally covered every inch of his small frame. Even his face swam with the murky purple and blue injuries.

The two sat side by side, and Chris remembered how he had been at that point beyond tears, as he stared silently into the foliage, but not pain coming from the aftereffects of the beating. A woman orbed in beside him--- Prue--- and the boy barely had time to look up before his greylighter had throw herself down beside him. She gently took his chin in her hands and gazed into his grief stricken eyes with pain of her own.

"Chris, please tell me you tried, baby," she whispered, tears sliding slowly down her cheeks. "Please tell me you tried to stop Jess."

The young boy's gaze fell to the ground. "I tried," he whispered, but still the tears would not fall. "She didn't want to live, Prue. She wanted to die and she wanted to leave us and I couldn't stop her," he was looking desperately into his greylighter's eyes now, imploringly, "She wanted to hurt us and she did. She knew I couldn't survive without her and she wanted me to come with her. She's evil and she's hurtful and she's---" But whatever else he was going to say they wouldn't know, for at that moment Prue raised her hand and struck the boy hard across his already bruised face, sending him falling forward to the ground. Immediately Prue regretted it, for the confused and frightened look the small child gave her shattered her already emotionally strained heart.

Gasping, horrified at what she'd done, Prue instantly reached out to help him sit back up, but the way he flinched away stayed her hand.

"P-please, Prue," he stammered, cringing away. "I--- I didn't mean to be s-so hateful. P-please don't you hurt me, too. Please. I p-promise I won't d-do it again. Promise."

"Oh, Chris," Prue choked, tears pouring done her face, sobbing openly. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--- I just didn't want to hear anything bad about her and I couldn't stop myself and---" another sob racked her body. "I'm sorry, baby. God, I'm so sorry. I'd never want hurt you. Never."

"But you did," whispered the boy, and at last a single tear slid down his cheek as he looked dejectedly to his lighter. "You did." The young one exploded, suddenly, in multicolored orbs, a slight sonic boom emitting in the aftermath, blowing Prue's hair behind her shoulders. It went dark.

The pool slid back out of sight, leaving Chris gazing at empty space. One of the only times in his life Prue had ever hit him, and she had never forgiven herself entirely since. She couldn't believe she'd hit an already severely abused child, and her own charge at that. Sighing, Chris turned his eyes back to the main pool and waited forlornly for his greylighter to spill everything.

**

* * *

A/N: Okay, people, need some help here. I know what I'm doing with 16 Chris but nothing whatsoever what I'm doing with adult Chris. Suggestions, PLEASE!**

**Thanks for the reviews EVERYONE! Keep 'em comin' !**

**Prissy-lady: **I LOVED your review. I was laughing.

**Kelsy: **oh yeah, you bet I'm doing something with it. Notice anything maybe connected with it in this chapter…:smiles innocently:

**Elfsong: **yeah, it's cool shocking people, isn't it? But you'll find I have many ways to do that…

:laughs manically:

**Drama Angel: **it won't be too much longer til they figure out what his parents did to him…

:hint hint:


	12. Jessica Elizabeth

**Disclaimer: Sue me, see if I care… Okay, okay, put the phone down! I don't own Charmed, happy?**

* * *

"_Okay, you guys, ask away."_

"Alright," said Phoebe without hesitation. "Who was Jessie? Why was she so important?"

Prue smiled sadly. "Jessie was Jessica Elizabeth, and she was Chris' twin. I'm guessing you're gonna want more than just that, though, aren't you?"

"Tell us their story," commanded Phoebe, smiling. Warmth lit her eyes as she looked upon her once sister, but she also saw how Prue might be uncomfortable. Whitelighters normally had all the siblings as charges, and not just one, so it was obvious Jessica was her charge, too.

"First off," began Prue, eyes narrowing suspiciously, "Did Chris ever tell you what kind of a childhood he had? Like Parent-son relationship---?"

"No," said Phoebe quickly, just barely cutting the other off. "I'm the only one who does. But Chris didn't want them to kno---"

"Of course he wouldn't," said Prue, brushing it aside. "That's just Chris. But you do need to know in order to understand _a lot _of stuff about him. It explains _that_ much." She paused and took a slightly deeper breath. The others waited expectantly. Apparently it was harder to say than she'd thought it'd be, judging by the way she was suddenly hesitant. At last she spilt,

"Chris and Jessie were abused. By both their parents. At first it was only Chris but once Jess started going to more extreme measures to help him, they started to abuse her, too. Not as badly, but Jess was still really young and didn't understand why her loving parents were suddenly hurting her when she was just trying to help her twin. After a few years of that maltreatment she couldn't take it anymore. She had known a mother's love and a father's reassuring presence, and suddenly it was gone, after she'd already learned to need it and rely on it. She did the only thing she could think of as a nine year old. She got out. Permanently. And in doing so, she severed the bond that twins share, the bond that brother and sister share, and the magical bond that tied them together times ten. She devastated Chris, by her own choice, and because of that Chris has never had any closure in it, or any way to really move on." Pause. "And that's the story of Jessica Elizabeth Last-Name-I-Won't-Tell-You."

The ones from the past gaped. That explained that.

"But-- _nine_?" repeated Paige in disbelief. "She was only nine and she really hurt that bad that she kill herself--- _at nine_?"

Prue nodded, but there was a slight underlying coldness in her eyes, through her grim composure.

"Oh, come on," said Piper rather condescendingly. "Dad left us after we had already learned to love and need him. But we didn't mope around for seven years, and still be at a point to where we had break downs. We got over it and moved on with our lives."

"That's because we had each other. We had Grams, and Grams was a great guardian. She never let us down or hurt us. We weren't living in constant pain or fear."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating?" pressed Paige. "I mean, 'constant pain and fear'? Almost half the United States' population has suffered some kind of abuse as children, and _over_ half the world's population. They don't go crying rivers-- they build bridges. Else we'd have one really depressed and frustrating world. What makes it alright for him to hold on to it--? his parents are dead, anyway."

The look Prue gave her sister suggested sudden death. "One, his father is still alive--- people only thought he was dead for a while--- and two, _you have no idea what you're talking about so don't you DARE dis him_--- he's trying as hard as he can, but when people won't ever get off of a bridge that's only half way constructed it tends to shatter under the weight, and he has tried to build it back and build it back for years with those freaking idiots treading all over it. You can't blame him with that kind of a handicap holding him back!"

Phoebe held out her hand in surrender, reeling from the sudden onslaught of anger and… hate? Why would her sister hate them just because they were picking on her charge? _Well_, she thought, _at least I know I can get a read off her now_. "Okay," she impeded the argument. "Tell us--- _what the hell is that?"_

Prue whirled around, startled, but sighed in relief when she saw it was only a little wolf cub… with raven black wings that were peppered with a few scarlet feathers protruding majestically from its back. "Oh," she said, smiling slightly as creature trotted over to the distraught teen. It rubbed its cute puppy-like snout against Chris' shoulder sympathetically, reassuringly. "That would be Chris' zail."

The Charmed Ones stared at her blankly, but Leo's eyes lit in comprehension, but a suspicious one at that.

"Zails are creatures, magical and --most of the time-- non-magical, that bond with witches. You know the bond between man and animal?" Leo asked. The girls nodded. "Well, that bond is stronger when a witch is a mate, and it helps them to focus their powers, balance their minds and thoughts."

"So it's like a familiar?" remarked Paige, finding the concept worth investigation.

Prue and Leo shared a wry look. "Kind of but not really," said Prue. "Familiars are more like protectors of young witches. They don't bond with them. Zails are like partners, assistants to their mate. The bond they share give both strength and reassurance, and the power of zails comes primarily from that."

"So you're saying if we went out and got ourselves zails," said Phoebe, "we would be more powerful?"

"Putting it simply: yes. But bonding is an experience in itself. Some pairs are meant to be together, others just aren't. And you don't just _go out and find one_," Prue continued, putting a delicate stress on the quote. "If you were meant to have a zail, then magic would find a way to bring you together. But there's also a down side to having one," she continued, again sharing a look with Leo. She still didn't seem on good terms with him, for some future reason apparently, but was willing to not truly dig in on him until he had something to be sorry for.

Leo, slightly uncomfortable from that look of loathing, picked up, "When two bond, that zail is tied solely to its mate. Whenever someone else touches it, for example, it'd cause the witch to be momentarily traumatized. It would be like someone else directly touched his soul, and it would hurt like there's no tomorrow for the witch. And if someone killed it…" he paused, a slight shudder running through him just imagining it.

After a moment he looked back to the two beside the grave. The strange creature had its head resting in the boy's lap, who was absent mindedly stroking its soft fur, his hysteria completely vanished and replaced with a quiet, aloofness. The zail used its wing to push the white bangs out of the boy's face, who was too lost in thought to notice. They definitely had some sort of a bond going on there. They seemed, too, to find solace in each other's company, even if they had no verbal communication methods.

"What is it though---? I mean, zails aren't a _species_," Leo asked.

"That, uh, that's a little complicated," commented Prue. "Well, it's, uh, it's a cross, actually, between Chris' original black and scarlet raven, and Jessie's wolf cub. When she died, something happened that fused the two together. And then, since Jess' powers were tied to her cub, when the cub fused to Chris' weirdish raven, Chris somehow also received Jessie's wiccan powers."

"Which ones were hers?" asked Phoebe, finding this all very confusing but going with it for the present. She had a feeling things would unfold themselves in due time.

"Empathy and energy shields," replied Prue. At the look her sisters shared she winced. "Chris didn't tell you about those did he?" They shook their heads as one. "I don't see why not, those are the more harmless ones… well the energy shields at least… he can do some pretty weird stuff with his empathy that, you, Phoebe, never could." Her voice trailed off in thought as Phoebe looked quite affronted. Paige smacked her shoulder playfully, but somewhat warningly, too. Phoebe got the message. 'Get over it before you get Prue mad at us again.'

"So," said Piper. "If Chris isn't evil, how did he flame here?"

Prue snapped out of her thoughts abruptly. "Flame? Oh, that just comes from the fire deemer in him. Did he tell you about that?" They nodded, back on familiar territory. But---

The sight of someone shimmering caught their eye. They looked up barely in time to see another boy, maybe 17 or 18, with mid-length curly brown hair and sharp grey eyes shimmer in before Chris threw out his hand, sending the newcomer flying back a good twenty meters.

"You sick freak!" Chris shouted angrily as the other, older teen swept back onto his feet with feline-like grace. "How could you do this? How _could_ you? She was your sister, too, _you freaking monster!" _

"Now, now, Christopher. Let's not lose our tempers, here," the more controlled teen lilted, strolling back to the other haughtily. Chris glared coldly at the young man. It was clear to everyone they had history… and if Jessica was Chris' twin and this new person was her brother, too, that meant---

"I never thought of Chris as a little brother," commented Paige, not comprehending what was going on here. Prue, on the other hand, had blanched, her face completely white.

"Oh shoot, oh shoot," she murmured again and again, beginning to wring her hands anxiously. Her sisters and brother-in-law looked at her, perplexed. "Not good, not good…"

"Prue, if you care so much, why don't you go kick that dude's butt?"

"Greylighters can't assist in their charge's-- er-- _battles_, unless they are specifically asked," Leo informed them, though he didn't seemed wholly convinced that that made standing by idly alright. Prue looked even more agitated than ever.

"I can't help, but I can't just stand by and watch," Prue muttered, attention fixed on the scene in front of them.

"Prue, if that's his brother…" began Piper slowly. "Then what's the worst that can happen?"

She had to ask. The two began hurling powers at each other so fast and furiously (no punt intended) Prue barely had time to throw them all out of the way before the gravestone they had been standing in front of was blown into shards by a ricocheted lightning bolt. "This!"

"Come back from the Resistance!" the older brother shouted, dive rolling out of the way of a well aimed telekinetic blast. He counterattacked with a few extremely evil-- but cool-- slashes of power that sent Chris to the ground, a bloody gash appearing across his face. "Stop your fooling around! Your family needs you on _our_ side! And the Resistance doesn't like you anyway! Hey-- whoa-- no lighter!" He added as Chris pulled out a very familiar lighter, sitting up on an elbow.

Chris flicked it on and, within the blink of an eye, had taken its flame into his hands and expanded it into a roaring blaze which he magically sent flying at his brother. The fire wrapped around the other like a suffocating blanket of death, enveloping him until they could no longer see the brunette curls, penetrating grey eyes, or black trench coat. But it only lasted a moment before the mass of flames began to swirl green, and hiss. Suddenly it turned into a mass of fiery snakes that launched themselves at the younger brother. Chris barely had time to clench his fist, extinguishing the fire before it made contact. The force it had come with remained, blowing his hair out of his face, splattering the blood from the gash on the gravestones behind him.

"So that's fire deeming," mused Phoebe. When Prue gave her a look, she explained, "He _told_ us about it. We've never seen it before, though."

16 Chris looked indignant. "When did you learn how to manipulate fire?" he asked, wounded and affronted.

"Come back to evil and I'll tell you," his brother bargained, brushing his own dark hair from his face.

Chris scoffed, cold and cruel. "I was never on _that_ side in the first place, idiot. You and our _dear_ older brother held me captive against my will, remember? And it was even you who had a hand in torturing me when I 'acted out'. Or did you forget that too?"

"Christopher…" The older said in a warning tone, holding up a magically charged hand threateningly.

"Damien…" Chris replied in a perfectly mimicked voice. He flamed out just in time before the spot he had been on was consumed in a miniature, confined electric storm of brilliant purple lightning bolts. He flamed back in directly in front of his older brother and cocked his head to one side, face void of emotions yet again. A bright red energy shield sprang out of nowhere and threw Damien into the air. The shield disappeared as the older got to his feet for the second time in two minutes.

"Fine," Damien snapped, eyes narrowed dangerously. "If you want to be like this, I'll have no choice but to carry out my orders."

"Ooo, Damien's taking orders now? I've missed a lot, then, haven't I?" Chris teased, but paused, a frown finding its way onto his face. "I'm going to regret saying that, aren't I?"

Damien nodded, smiling. "I follow orders I enjoy. And these particular orders are to my liking."

"And were those orders are to vandalize our sister's tombstone? Or to break me physically on top of that?"

Damien shrugged, nonchalant. That admirable indifference seemed to run in the family. "Eh. They just said for me to get you to turn back. Be creative. You know, drive you over the edge and into our awaiting arms."

Chris rolled his eyes. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Blackmail." He replied simply and conjured a sheet of paper with a web address in bold letters on it. He held it up jauntily. When Chris just stared at it blankly, the older rolled his eyes and conjured a laptop. He tossed it to his little brother, who automatically flipped it open and typed in the web address.

Chris' face turned a funny color. His eyes were wide. His mouth opened but no sound came out. The young one didn't seem to be able to breath quite right, and he blinked several times, mute and… stunned.

The ones from the past and Prue waited for some kind of an explanation or clue as to what was happening inside his head, or on the screen. They could hear something being said from the speakers on the laptop, but couldn't make out exactly what it was. For a while time seemed to drag by. They didn't know how long Chris could go without breathing, but they were pretty sure it wasn't five minutes.

At last he released all his breath at once, tearing his eyes away from the screen and they could see the pain… the horrible pain and shock. Phoebe even sensed how he felt betrayed and horrorstricken, though those didn't show on his face as much.

"How--- where did you _get_ this---? How could you know about--- you were never around when--- how _could _you---?" He stopped, unable to even form simple sentences, yet rambling anyway.

Damien laughed. "Glad I actually got a response. Now wait 'til other people who know you log on to that and find out some rather interesting things about your past. I mean, first not even a last name and then--"

"You really are a sick freak, you know that?" Chris hissed, before letting his voice climax and he screamed, "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? I KNOW YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE HATES ME, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN BRING _THEM_ INTO THIS! _THAT_ INTO THIS! WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" With that said he began typing furiously.

Damien looked highly amused by this all and asked, smiling, "What are you trying to do, Christopher?"

"Shut the site down. Now shut up before I vanquish you into oblivion," he replied coldly without looking up.

Damien's smile widened, sending chills down the spines of the ones watching. "I know you hacked into the CIA database when you were eleven, but this, I'm sure you'll find, is going to be just a _bit_ more difficult than that."

Chris' face darkened but he continued typing, nonetheless. Blood spilled from the wound across his face onto the keyboard but he didn't seem to notice. Prue was watching with tears in her eyes. She could feel how hurt and desperate yet hopeless he was feeling. She could feel how his mind was spinning and she knew how he felt sick to his stomach. These things she could feel, yet any empath couldn't. And all of it, the sight, the emotions, tore her heart.

Damien sighed theatrically. "When you can't stand the shocked faces any more, you know where to find me." With that he shimmered out.

For a moment Chris continued typing, but they could see how tears of frustration and hopelessness were forming in his eyes. They could see how he refused to acknowledge them, too.

They didn't know how long he sat cross-legged on the ground typing before he said, "You can come out now, Prue. And whoever those four with you are."

Prue merely sighed, whispering to her family, "Alright, I'm going to glamour you so that he doesn't recognize you. I don't think he can deal with anymore stress right now." She waved a hand and not only did her sisters and brother-in-law look like different people, they became visible to Chris. Before Phoebe had time to ask why seeing them would cause him stress, Prue pulled them forward.

They came out of the shadows. "Hey, sweetie," Prue said softly, coming to sit beside the boy. She glanced at the screen, but he had long since exited out and all they could see now was the computer language he was typing in. It made no sense to the rest of them. "What happened? What did Damien do this time?"

Chris shook his head. "I can't-- I mean, you already know about it-- but I don't want to remind you. And who are they?" he added, turning the attention to the four disguised ones.

"Those are some friends. They need to find the Archeohauge thingy," she said softly, never taking her eyes off her charge.

Chris arched an eyebrow. He seemed to be perfectly fine, now. "Okay, let me assign numbers to call them by while I'm at it. Friend one, friend two---"

"Right," said Prue, snapping out of her semi-trance. "That's Rebecca," she pointed to Piper, "Mika is her husband, Naomi," she pointed to Paige, "and Gabrielle," was Phoebe.

"Nice to meet you," said Phoebe, or Gabrielle, whatever. Chris gave her a half smile. Meanwhile Prue had been stealthily creeping her hands up to her charge's face, clearly intending to heal him, but Chris caught her.

"Prue, as much as I'd like you to so we could start a club, getting your wings clipped is not the answer."

"You had your wings clipped?" cut in Leo, unable to stop himself. The look the boy gave him was withering and Leo immediately regretted opening his mouth. But suddenly they heard Prue's voice inside their heads,

"_He was cast down from grace when he was fourteen. So no, his wings weren't exactly clipped."_ **(A/N: whilst you may consider them to be the same thing, I don't. Just go with it, please)**

Leo gaped, shocked. He felt his ex-charges' confusion and used the same method of telepathy to explain,

"_You are only cast down from grace as a _punishment_-- not a discipline measure. And the Elders curse the fallen angel, in more than a few ways. Actually, only one whitelighter has ever been cast down from grace before-- and that was for murdering his charge and several other whitelighters in the process. Chris must have done something _really_ bad to be cast down from grace."_

Using her empathy to channel the power of telepathy, Phoebe asked, _"What do you mean 'curse' the fallen angel?"_

Leo shrugged with his eyebrows. _"It's only been done once before. I guess for Chris it means he can't be healed. Who knows what else."_

"Chris," said Prue, not paying attention to the silent conversation. "We should get back to the base. Can you flame that far again?"

"Prue, it's just in Colorado. I've gone halfway across the world with worse than this scratch. What's up with you?"

"Nothing!" Prue proclaimed, quickly snapping back to herself. "Now, we need to get back and work on getting a handle on that power advancement. You obviously can't do it on your own," she added teasingly.

"Grr." Chris replied, glaring. "Do we have to? It's a stupid power. I'm never going to use it. I didn't use its form before it advanced, either."

"What is it?" asked Paige, prepared to lecture him on the importance of whatever it turned out to be. She only had one power, anyway, not counting orbing, while her sisters both had at least two.

"Something like a cross between retrocognition and astral projection," Chris replied, he and his greylighter locked in a staring contest.

At their blank silence, Prue explained, "He can astral project his memories instead of himself. And its un-advanced form is where he can show people his memories through linking their minds, or even see some of theirs. Complete power over memories."

"Useless. Ha-- you blinked!" Chris added.

Prue stuck out her tongue.

"Useless?" repeated Phoebe as though he were insane. "That is so much cooler than premonition!"

Five sets of eyes rolled.

When they had all gotten back to the base, Prue and Chris spoke to a David Archwood and Nicole Stalwart, who were very prominent leaders of the Resistance (there was a council of 13 leaders, Chris among them-- although he was still kept on a very short leash), and explained what was going to happen. From what the ones waiting outside heard, they didn't leave them very much room to debate. Archwood seemed to be a particular asshole about it, though.

After that, they made their way to the cafeteria. The ones from the past just realized they hadn't had food since breakfast, and they were in a place where it was a little past eight at night. They formally met Paris-- as she came sprinting into the great hall, completely out of breath.

"Chris-- thank God I found you!" she exclaimed. "You have to come now, Archwood just sent three hundred civilians through bypass 34--"

"_He what?" _Chris shouted. "Of all the stupid, idiotic, anti-brained things to do! Please tell me you stopped him?"

"I _tried_," she said earnestly, looking desperately to Chris for help. "He wouldn't listen to me! He's a complete prat! You have to come and--"

"Pair," coughed Prue. She motioned to the ones sitting around the table with her. "These are my friends that are going with FU1 to the Archeohauge. That's Rebecca and her husband Mika, that's Naomi," she pointed to Paige, "and that's Gabrielle," she pointed to Phoebe.

"Hey," said Paris catching the drift and shaking their hands. "I'm Paris Whitmire. Would you mind if I stole Chris for just a little while?"

"Not at all, sweetheart," Phoebe replied. As soon as the two had sprinted off, she turned to Prue.

"What's so special about bypass 34?"

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm really sorry for the slow update-- it was longer than a week! I'm so ashamed. Anywho, more of older Chris in a bit, this is one of my infamous transition chapters. Don't worry, there won't be too many of them. Especially thank you, people who gave suggestions! They were all really cool-- some even inspired ideas for completely new stories all together! Appreciate it! Thanx everyone, and review, pleaz! Are these chapters _too _long, now?**

**Ha, I updated on Halloween. Beat that, J.H.!**

**Lesphinx: **I know… interesting, huh?

**Drama Angel: **love the suggestion. I'm really thinking about it. Thanx!

**Prissy-lady: **thinking about your suggestions, too… very inspirational


	13. Titans, innocents, and Chris

**Disclaimer: Why is this like de juh vu? I mean, I KNOW I've never said that this isn't my story before… Maybe I'm just turning into physic little Phoebe, here… :eeks: **

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"Bypass 34..." repeated Prue, leafing through the information stored in her memory. "I dunno… Chris has never mentioned it before, or at least to me. There _was_ that whole year and a half we were separated, though; maybe something about it came up with him during that time."

"You were separated?" echoed Leo, arching a querying eyebrow.

Prue nodded, lost in thought. "Yeah… when he was fourteen, a few weeks after y--- his _parents_ died, he called me for the last time he would in ages. Told me he was going to disappear and not to worry. He was gone for over a year and was proclaimed dead by the authorities. There were so many murders so often then, they didn't even give it the seven years before they put his 'death' in the books. The next time I saw him…" she waved a vague hand before continuing, "He was fifteen, prisoner and tortured by his own brothers, and putting an energy shield around the entire earth as the Source was throwing asteroids at it."

"What?" exclaimed four voices. Then Phoebe remarked, "If the Source was throwing asteroids at Earth, why would he if he was on it, too? I mean, wouldn't he die with everyone else?"

"What are you--" began Prue, confused before realization hit her. "Oh… you don't know that there are other planets suitable for humans yet, do you? I suppose not… 2004... Anyway, the Source was set up at an off-world base. He moved his main headquarters back here after he realized Chris wasn't going to let him destroy this planet. I mean, he did manage to get a few past the shield-- after Chris got exhausted from the effort and the shield started flickering-- and now North Africa and South Asia are just craters and volcanoes… but that's beside the point."

Shaking her head as though it would clear the plethora of disorienting information, Paige put them back on track, "Is there any way to figure out what the bypass is? I mean someone else who might know… internet site…?" Internet site. The laptop. They were all thinking about it, but Prue wouldn't admit it as she called out quite oddly,

"Free Style, here, Free Style!"

Out of nowhere, a portal opened above the table and the winged wolf cub flew majestically from it, soaring to a halt and landing in front of Prue. It cocked its head attentively at the woman and Phoebe had the irresistible urge to jump up and cuddle the cute creature. She did resist, though, remembering what would happen if she did touch it. Instead, she asked,

"Its name is Free Style?"

"English translation, yeah. No one besides his zail-mate can pronounce his actual birth name," Prue explained, meaning Chris. She turned her attention to the winged one. "Hey, little guy. Could you use that nifty little link with Chris you have to ask him what bypass 34 is?"

Free Style cocked his head the other way and an image appeared suddenly on the table. It was at first sight like a miniature, three-dimensional movie. Without being told, they knew it had tapped into Chris' power to astral project memories.

_It showed Chris sitting on a tabletop, slightly younger, asking their exact same question._

"_What's so special about bypass 34?" he inquired of a robed Source. The two were at that apartment they had seen in the last memory stop, but this time they were in the kitchen, not the boy's bedroom. They still couldn't see the Source's face._

_The Source considered the young one, leaning against the countertop. It seemed as if they had been talking for quite a while now. At length the Source responded in that awful, deep and malicious voice, "It's a bypass around this building and the Resistance thinks I don't know about it." He laughed, _a sound that sent ice down the ones watching's spines, made them recoil slightly into themselves_. "What they don't know is that I've swamped it with Titans on the other side of their 'report back on situation' point. They've been sending people stupidly through it for months without even realizing those people are dead the next day." He laughed again, but Chris had already slipped silently from the room. _

The scene ended. The ones from the past and Prue alike stared at the spot it had once been, one word registering through all their minds. The zail beat his wings for a second before vanishing through another portal.

The next thing they knew, Prue was on her feet, talking one-hundred words a second. "Okay, you guys, I don't think Chris will mind if you crash at his place while I go look after him. Just don't touch anything you might happen to find on any of his desks and don't go in his bedroom or he won't hesitate to vanquish you. I'll be back in an hour or so. Don't go wandering around the base, either; you don't have IDs or any explanation they'd believe. Bye!" She waved a hand and they abruptly found themselves being orbed to the floor above them, along with their food.

When they reappeared, they saw that they were in a different apartment than the one they kept seeing the fifteen year old in. Putting it lightly, the place was a wreck. However, that was still such an understatement it was humorous. The walls all had burn marks, as though from energy and fire balls, a few dressers were turned over, the floor was littered with papers, rock-like things, pens, pencils, screwdrivers, hardware, _computer_ hardware, and even more. The counters were covered in newspaper clippings and laptops, as were the desks--- which all five desks had so much stuff piled on them it was hard to make out the fact that the kid even owned _one_ desk. It was a relatively basic apartment, besides the mess. One kitchen, two bedrooms (Chris' was obviously the one with the door locked), each had its own bathroom, a living room (which they had first landed in), and another room that held a stereo system, a TV, and two of the debatable desks.

"Geez," moaned Piper, already beginning to rub her hands, fidgeting. "I swear, if I was his mother…"

"He wouldn't live to see tomorrow," finished Paige, laughing nervously at what she was saying, considering his history. She still couldn't believe herself--- she was a social worker, and still she hadn't noticed the signs, even though they had been staring her in the face! Any idiot would have seen it, but still she hadn't. She shook herself mentally. _Get a grip Paige_, she told herself. _Who in their right mind would ever guess that cocky, smart mouthed, self-controlled boy was really getting the crap beat out of him by his own parents whenever nobody was watching?_ It just didn't seem to be possible to connect the two. _But Phoebe noticed_… _Paige, stop it!_ Paige admonished herself again.

"Piper! What are you doing?" exclaimed Phoebe, ripping her sister out of her thoughts. Paige turned to find Piper already cleaning the table in the kitchen, moving all the food onto it and placing the unidentifiable junk on the already overloaded counters. Piper glanced up briefly.

"I can't help it. Just come on and eat before it gets cold. Where are the chairs?"

"Uh… I think a leg of one is over there… and that looks like half of a seat…" pointed out Leo. "They're all scorched, though. All the pieces, that is. Think demons ransacked this place?"

"Or a certain little fire deemer threw a tantrum," remarked Paige.

An hour passed, then more. Still no one showed up and they were getting restless. Piper had long since discovered a sink and washed the dishes, and now there was nothing to do as they sat at the table. At long last, Phoebe and Paige stood simultaneously and began to go through Chris' belongings. True to their word, they didn't mess with the desks, and his door was locked anyway so that was not a problem.

Most of the stuff was about demons, or articles about strange disappearances or murders. There was a lot of magic material, particularly potions and weaponry, but they still couldn't figure out what the heck rocks were doing in there.

Phoebe made her way to a laptop and opened it up. It was the one Chris had had when he typed in the site address at the graveyard. She could tell because the page with computer language was still up. Across the room, Paige called out from another laptop,

"I don't believe it--- he has every demon in existence categorized in here! Level, powers, vanquishing spells and potions, locations, _habits_, killing methods, ways to track them--- everything!"

Piper and Leo came over to see, but Phoebe stayed at her own computer. Holding her breath, the middle sister hit the back button and waited as the scene promoting blackmail loaded.

The pool slid back out of sight, leaving Chris gazing at empty space. His eyes turned forlornly to the main pool.

* * *

"Now that's interesting," commented Bianca, watching it retreat. She narrowed her eyes at another pool and it came soaring up to them. Chris turned his attention to the new one… and started.

It showed himself at the age of seven, tearfully pleading with his mother to take the fish away. She was furious with him about something--- she had to be. It was only when he had actually done something that she would use that particular weakness against him. She was screaming at the little boy, but he was barely listening, his glittering green eyes pasted on the-- ironically enough-- _angel_fish swimming around in the clear fish bowl.

The adult Chris cringed, making Bianca smirk evilly as she sent the pool away with a wave of her hand. The woman peered almost eagerly into the other pools surrounding them, looking for another memory to make her captive as 'uncomfortable' as possible. And Chris couldn't do anything but watch.

* * *

It was at that moment that Prue chose to orb in, shouting furiously, "I couldn't freaking find him! I mean, my God! Not liking me to spy on him is one thing, but cloaking himself from me when he's in trouble is completely another! I swear, if he is hurt I will never let him out of my sight again, whether he likes it or not!" She paused to take a breath. Her sisters and brother-in-law stared at her. She finally seemed to register their presence, or at least the fact that they weren't used to seeing her, and stopped to pace herself. "Hey, find everything you need alright? Whoa, what am I asking? Of course not! This place is a train wreck. Hey, what' cha got there, Phoebe?" she added, noticing how Phoebe's attention had become divided.

Prue got up and moved around to see the screen, as did the others. On the surface, it had a button that read 'play'. Phoebe clicked it after a moment's hesitation and they all watched the scene unfolded on the screen (hee hee, that's fun to write). The scene was in a bedroom…

_Chris was about seven, his hair dark and somewhat curly, and he was incredibly small for his age. His vivid green eyes were wide with fear, with tears, and he was begging with someone outside the camera's frame. "P-please, don't. I s-swear I didn't mean to use magic. I really, really, really didn't mean to, m-mommy. Please d-don't hit me again. I won't ev-ever again. I swear." But the little boy very abruptly hit the ground as a hand struck him hard across the face._

"_Do you honestly believe I care what you say, Christopher?" a horribly angry voice demanded. _The woman's homicidal rage was obvious even through the computer, and, frankly, it scared the ones watching_. "You can't use magic! What the hell is wrong with you?" She struck the child again after wrenching him back to his feet. He hit the ground again. "Whilst falling through a counter in this house may seem harmless to your naïve little mind, what if it had been in public? What would have happened if you had exposed us? You can't use magic! You can't use magic, you can't use magic!" Again, she jerked him roughly back to his feet and slammed the small child into the bedpost. "You--" she slammed him into the bedpost again, "Cannot--" she did it again. "Use--" and again. "MAGIC!" the woman shoved him so hard into the bedpost this time it crack and the boy cried out in pain, crumpling to the floor. _

"_Good grief, Christopher!" the woman growled, enraged, exasperated. "Look what you did now! Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost to repair? More than it costs to feed you for a month, for one!"_

_The little boy gaped at her, dismayed. _There seemed to have passed between them an understanding the Charmed Ones failed to pick up on_. "But-- but I didn't mean to-- you can't--"_

_The woman struck the boy again. "Don't you DARE tell me what I can and cannot do!" she snarled. "That is the last straw-- I'm calling your father and we are going to teach you a lesson you will never forget--"_

Prue suddenly launched herself forward and X-ed out the screen before the woman could say another word. Her face was white with hues of green. She looked faint, to say the least. The ones from the past halfway wanted to argue, but the other half just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. They had never seen such a small child look so frightened, so helpless, and so defeated. And that child had been their whitelighter. Their cocky, neurotic, self-assured whitelighter from the future they constantly griped at and treated no better than that woman had.

"What happened?" asked Phoebe, finally, softly. "What'd they do to him?"

Prue had her eyes closed and didn't answer at first. When at last she spoke, it wasn't to answer the question. "I can not believe Damien would do this. This is low even for him… no wonder Chris reacted like that… but on the internet? Everyone uses the internet… of course… I still don't believe he could do this to him…"

"Prue, what happened?" asked Paige, more sternly. She didn't know why, but she felt a need to know. Then again, she felt somehow that she already knew…

Prue sighed, eyes still closed. At length she looked up at them and they could see the tears in her blue eyes. "His dad got there. Then… then his parents… his parents…" she paused, closing her eyes again, taking a deep breath. "Then his parents_hurt_ him."

The ones from the past stared, mouths agape. Finally, Paige managed-- insensitively-- "And that's on the internet? Damien put his parents raping his brother on the internet? Dude, that's gross!"

It was Prue's turn to stare. Phoebe, after gaping a moment longer, smacked Paige on the arm. "Paige! How could you say that? Good grief! Can you imagine how that must have devastated that little boy? He was only five!"

"Seven," corrected Prue. "Malnourishment equals smaller child."

"Yeah," said Paige softly. "I saw a lot of that when I was a social worker."

"Malnourishment?" repeated Leo, stammering. "You mean-- when she said-- she really didn't feed him for a _month_?"

Prue nodded, as in "no, she didn't feed her son for a month".

The Charmed Ones and Leo sank onto the couch conveniently placed behind them. "Unbelievable," breathed Piper, who had been silent until this point. She had been thinking. The woman in the 'home video' had seemed horribly familiar, though she'd had her back turned the entire time. Still… Piper still had the feeling she'd seen her before, even if it was just once in the produce isle at the supermarket.

"Isn't it?" responded Prue with a cold edge. "And I couldn't interfere because he couldn't call me. I had to stand by helplessly as they-- they--" she stopped, choking on tears. Phoebe immediately rose to comfort her sister. Suddenly the door to the apartment flew open and that little boy in question walked in, nine years older and covered from head to toe in blood to the point it was dripping ceaselessly from his now dark scarlet hair. It was even smeared across his face.

Silently, ignoring his guests, the teenager strode past them and went into his room, phazing through the door like a ghost. The ones in the living room stared after him. Blinking, Prue made towards the room, but the door flew open once again, and Paris and a strange young man came in. They, too, had bloodstains on their clothes, but neither as much as Chris.

"Paris, Joden, what…?" Prue began, but found herself unable to finish the sentence. Paris understood.

"Titans," she explained, taking Joden's hand and directing the older boy through the mess that was Chris' apartment. "My God… it was horrible…"

"It was a regular blood bath, alright," murmured Joden, also disturbed. He had mid-length curly auburn hair and gentle greenish blue eyes, and a very calm, casual composure. More or less, he looked like the one everyone got along with and surrounded at parties. But now he was soaked in other people's blood. How nice.

Prue seemed to stare into space for a moment before turning back to Chris' bedroom door. Paris, however, stopped her. "I don't think that's a good idea, Prue. He really needs some alone time. I mean, he's got to deal with the fact that he just lost two hundred and thirty-something innocents. It could take some time."

"Two… hundred and… how many did you manage to save? What happened?"

Paris sighed and Joden looked into the distance. "We saved over fifty, I know," Paris said dejectedly. "But the titans… there were too many… and it takes more than the Power of Three to vanquish just one of them… and while Chris may be good, he can only take so much… we took a jet and caught up with the buses just as they were coming out of the tunnel through Mount Airy. And on the other side there were at least thirty titans waiting for us… I don't know how the Source managed to multiply the original twelve… but he sure as heck did…"

Joden, realizing Paris couldn't say any more, picked up quietly, "We landed in front of the buses and got out. Chris and Duncan took on the titans and me and Paris tried to get the civilians to turn back, but the Source knew we were coming. A battalion of mid and upper level demons was cutting us off and then it got really chaotic. Chris and Duncan were the only two fighting against at least a hundred. André tried to get as many civilians on the jet as she could, but the titans were getting past Chris and Duncan and they… they…" he faltered, voice catching. After a moment he regained his composure enough to continue tightly, "The titans… literally took maces and clubs and… and…" he made a violent gesture with his hand and the others in the room cringed, getting his meaning. "There was so much blood… and screaming… and crying… and the demons just kept coming and the titans just wouldn't stop… and…" Again, the very young man stopped and Paris took his hand. She had regained some of her composure enough to continue in a forced detached voice,

"Joden and I tried to keep the demons away from the ones that couldn't fight. Chris flamed as many out as he could while still trying to keep the titans from-- from _slaughtering_-- us all, but using so much powerful magic was draining both him and Duncan fast. Then… I think Chris did something… but suddenly the demons and titans just left. We sent André back with the first load of survivors and checked through the bodies for anyone that might still have been alive… there were more-- _limbs_-- than actual bodies, though… And everyone was dead… so many… and children… and they were _smashed_…" She stopped, tears in her distanced eyes.

"And then we came back here," ended Joden with a voice that shone with an ironic brightness.

"Oh, God," Prue whispered and went to give the two a hug. After a moment she stood back. "Um… Joden, I don't think you've met my friends here," she added, pulling away. "Joden Nuwitt, meet…" and she introduced them. "Joden is on Chris' FU team, as is Paris, Duncan, and André."

"FU," repeated Paige. She was the only one who could speak after hearing the story. "About that…"

Joden laughed before she could continue, and explained, "Feather Unit. It's just good to have a code word when the Source monitors the radios, especially one he'd believe we'd really say. But we're on FU1, and there are about twenty or so others. Better?"

"Yes, thank you," Paige responded politely, but they were both smiling.

"Okay, just for the record," Prue said, interrupting their lock-of-gazes, "Joden already goes out with Paris, so get your eyes off him missy," she added teasingly.

Paris, Joden, and Paige all rolled their eyes. Phoebe, however, was put out. She'd thought Paris and Chris made a good couple. They definitely had the speaking-with-eyes-only thing down.

"But why Feather Unit?" asked Phoebe. "I mean, what's feathers got to do with anything?"

Joden smiled mysteriously, his pretty eyes twinkling. "Ask me later. It's a long story."

They could hear the shower being turned on from Chris' bathroom.

"So what's the deal with Archwood?" asked Piper. "Why would he send them through there? I mean, if everyone else knows it's guarded…"

"He's heard that it was," Prue replied. "But since Chris was the one that told him, he refuses to believe it."

"Ooo can't wait to see that," said Joden blandly. "Chris is going to kick his ack when he has to tell that man the fight between them killed over two-hundred innocents in the crossfire."

Paris laughed just as blandly. "I don't know what their problem is, but it's gotta stop. This is too much. Chris is never going to forgive himself, or Archwood, either."

Prue grimaced. "You've noticed, too?"

"That Chris takes losing innocents hard?" implied Joden. "I think everyone has, Prue. Let's just hope his past life doesn't come back to kick his ack again." He laughed. "Geez that was hilarious."

"Why do you say ack?" queried Phoebe, who had after one hearing passed it off as a mishearing, but twice…

"Cause Paris will smack me if I cuss in front of her." Paris smacked him in the arm. "You see? She's abusive!" Joden pouted good-naturedly, but everyone else in the room winced. They all knew the real abused one was currently taking a shower in the other room.

After chatting for a few more minutes, Paris and Joden took their leave, saying they needed showers, too. Just after the door shut Chris came in silently. The boy's hair was still wet, but with water this time, and he had changed into very dark, but clean, clothes. He took in all the people and went to a desk still without a word. He picked up a two-way radio and clicked it on and immediately they could hear someone's voice saying, "Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris--- respond--- Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris---"

"Geez, I'm here, shut up already!" Chris said wearily. The voice stopped abruptly and replied, sounding offended,

"Good grief, in a nice mood today aren't ya?"

"Oh, yeah, really, I'm just sunshine and daisies. What do you want?"

"Archwood said be at the briefing room tomorrow at four A.M. Have your team ready at five. Anything you want me to tell him in return?"

"Yeah, tell him I refuse to do the funeral service and he can screw off if he has anything to say about it. Bye, Nancy."

"Chris, you know I can't tell h---" Chris clicked it off. He disappeared for a moment back into his room, but reappeared only minutes later carrying in tow a skateboard and laptop.

Prue watched him for a moment as he made his way cautiously through the mess that was his apartment before voicing, "Chris, sweetheart, you know that report can wait. You really need to rest and recharge your energy. And it can't be emotionally healthy, either."

"Gee, thanks for the psyche evaluation. Now I don't have to go to the therapist this week--- call and cancel the appointment for me, will you?" he bit back sarcastically. Prue made a slight grimacing expression as she made her way after him.

"Aren't you forgetting what day it is?" she pressed in a tone foreboding of hidden meaning and urgency.

"YES! Finally, someone remembered! _Thank_ you, Prue." He actually looked brighter and somewhat relieved. Prue's eyes narrowed. Apparently, he was not quite on the same page.

"Um… I'm talking about last day of the week… you haven't slept in six days… consequences…" She tried to spell it out without giving too much away to the ones from the past. For a moment Chris just looked confused. Then his eyes went wide in understanding, crestfallenness, and hurt.

At last he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The boy dejectedly dropped his skateboard by the door, threw his laptop onto a nearby and walked despondently passed Prue without a word.

He entered his room as he had done previously, leaving Prue perplexed in his wake. "Okay… that was weird," Prue commented at her sisters' querying stares. "What date is this?"

"November 19," replied Piper, finding her voice at last. None of them had been able to speak when the boy had entered the room. It had been as if they were suffocating… knowing that he was the same child they had seen in the video clip. Knowing what his parents had done to him. That knowledge had changed everything when they finally came face-to-face with him.

"November nineteenth…" Prue murmured, thinking hard. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell. I guess he was just being sarcastic."

"What were you talking about?" inquired Paige. "The last day of the week thing?"

"Oh…" said Prue softly, and they could tell she was debating whether to tell them or not. After a span of time that seemed to last forever, the eldest Charmed One made her decision. She smiled wryly. "I'm sorry, guys. He's got to tell you that one. I may want you to understand him, but this one really hits him hard. It's complicated too."

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**A/N: Thanx for the reviews again! And see, I told you I'd update today. So, what' cha think? Boring, quite possibly, but they'll really get going on the mission next chappie. So think Joden is cool? I love writing him almost as much as I do Damien (almost…). And I couldn't bring him into this chapter:cries into hands:**

**Anyway, _what's_ a beta? _Why_ would I need one? _Where_ would I get one? When and how are the only questions I don't have… but I'll get there… pleaz tell me peoples! **

**Good Witch: **yeah, you got it. Chris lived with the Elders before Piper and Leo tried to drown him. He just went back to elder land afterwards for a few week too, cause he wasn't ready to face those evil jerks again for a while. I hope I didn't just confuse you even more…

**Lesphinx: **yeah, just for you! It cleared some stuff up for others, too, as I found out by the reviews. I had forgotten there was so much left to explain about that, so thanx for asking!

**I updated on my birthday--- Beat that J.H.!**


	14. The nowhere chapter

**Disclaimer: I'm too tired to come up with a sarcastic or witty comment. I don't own Charmed. I couldn't even spell it if it wasn't for this computer's auto-correct… Who knew there was no '4' in it?**

* * *

Shortly after, Prue showed them to the guest room and conjured another bed for Leo (apparently greylighters' powers kept growing even though they were dead). She then orbed out, explaining greylighters were like whitelighters-- the ones who actually followed the rules, unlike Leo-- in that they weren't supposed to be active parts of their charges' lives. Just back up for when they needed it.

They all slept well, exhausted from the long, (thirteen chapter) day. It was about four o'clock when Prue orbed back in to wake them up and give them instructions for the day, since she wouldn't be going with them to the Archeohauge personally. Mostly the instructions were like, "Remember, you're not the Charmed ones; you're Rebecca, Naomi, and Gabrielle. And Mika, not Leo." And, "If anyone asks, you're not familiar with how things work because you've been living on the planet Harmoni for the last five years-- it's got a lot of oceans, so if they ask, you can comment on that." Or, "You can't say you're human because I know Chris and Paris have already felt your magical signatures-- just say you're mediocre witches and a normal whitelighter."

"Prue!" Piper finally burst. "We know how to do undercover work-- we're the Charmed Ones! Take it easy!"

"Yeah," added Phoebe. "What we really need to know is how to deal with Chris. I know abused children sometimes have, like, strange habits that seem important to them, or topics they might completely freak out on if you bring up… And plus, he's just plain weird to begin with, so that doesn't help us…"

Paige, Piper, and Leo nodded. Prue's eyes went wide in thought. "Yeah…" she began slowly, thinking. "I don't really know what he does that might seem weird to other people since I've known him for so long… Um… let's see… He will _probably_ call you 'sir' or 'ma'am' just because he has it beaten into him that he has to be polite. Possibly open doors for women… and… he will rarely start a conversation-- you have to do that. Otherwise, he's perfectly content with being quiet and excluded. And… I dunno. Just treat him like you would anyone else and see where that gets you. Oh," she added suddenly. "And don't touch him. Don't ever, ever touch him or he cannot be held responsible for his following actions. He _really_ hates it when people stand next to him, let alone _touch _him."

Understandable…

She gave them a wry smile and orbed out.

A little less than an hour later, they were to be seen wandering aimlessly around the rather large and maze-like base, looking for the briefing room. Luckily, they ran into Paris and Joden, who were walking in the same direction, holding hands and talking lightly.

The couple immediately greeted them brightly and together the six strolled down the hallways to the briefing room. Phoebe was surprised at how quickly they seemed to move on after losing so many innocents. But in a world of darkness, as Joden had said grimly, you have to move on, or the rest of the world is in even more trouble because you're not there to help it. Paris was silent at that, lost in thought. At that moment, they all could see the serene little girl she had been just three years ago, before the world was shaken into bits. Before her life had been shattered into rubble. It only lasted a second, though, as they came to the sound-proof steel door of the briefing room. Outside it, two more people were waiting jadedly.

One was a woman, maybe twenty-four, with wavy brown hair cropped around her ears and azure eyes behind slender spectacles. The man standing behind her looked something along the lines of twenty-eight, but his jet black eyes were like deep, dark pools of knowledge. Too much knowledge for someone that young. His shoulder-length, wild and silky black hair was even blacker than his eyes. His face was a pale white.

"Hey," said the strange woman, eager to do something besides stand around silently. "What's up? Who's this?"

"This," said Paris, "Is Rebecca, Naomi, Gabrielle, and Mika. Friends of Prue's. They're coming with us. And this," she added, motioning to the man and woman the Charmed Ones and Leo didn't know, "Is the infamous André Burkhart and Duncan…uh… do vampires have last names?"

Duncan scowled at her, and they could all see his elongated fangs. Paris made a distasteful, surprised face and Joden snorted. He stopped rather abruptly, though, as he went flying through the air, courtesy to an extremely strong invisible force. The thin air swore nonchalantly.

"Damien! Whoa-- trying to kill me, again?"

The door of the briefing room opened at the same moment Damien unmasked himself from the invisibility charm, looking acutely indifferent. The youngest brother looked merely tired.

"Nah, Joden," Chris said wearily without even looking at Damien. "If he had wanted to kill you, you would be dead right now. He's just bored."

"Bored? Me? Never!" said the older brother in mock scandalized tones, but stopped as he caught sight of the vampire. Duncan, in turn, had taken a step back, his eyes swiftly turning scarlet as he hissed. Damien looked at him as though trying to remember something extraordinarily amusing. "Hey… didn't you used to be a vaytei?" he said at last, smiling mischievously. Duncan hissed again, his handsome features twisted with anger and loathing. Damien made the same face Paris had only moments before. "Geez, man, don't take it personally. Chris was one, too--albeit for a much shorter time." He turned a glower towards his little brother, complaining, "Seeing as you found it necessary to change the rules around… brat…"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Don't you have some _orders_ to follow or something? I mean, sticking around with us _losers_ has got to be cramping your style, too."

"Aw, is my favewit wittle vaytei twying to get wid of me?" Damien said in mock baby tones, pinching Chris' cheek, but he very suddenly found his arm twisted back into a locked --broken-- position by Chris.

"Don't. Touch. Me." Chris said with an unmistakable clarity that made the ones present fight back shivers. Damien cocked his head to one side with a slight smile playing over his dark complexioned features. His sharp grey eyes were alight with a hidden thought that made the ones present feel as though they had been plunged into icy water. He didn't even notice that his arm was broken.

"Wait till the next time you fly over enemy territory, little bro. Just wait." He shimmered out.

Chris rolled his eyes again and led the way back inside, seemingly unfazed. He did still look tired, though. Very tired.

As they took seats, Paige sat down next to Paris. "What's a vaytei?" she whispered so that Chris and Duncan couldn't hear. She had a feeling they would object to her knowing.

A dark look passed over the female teen's face. "It's really sick," she said darkly, with open abhorrence. But how so, she wouldn't explain. **(A/n: No slash or anything! I _really_ hate writing things like that)**

"Okay people," said a tall, burly man as he came through the door, Chris' guard Devon on his tail. "Let's get this briefing started." Devon went to stand silently behind Chris' chair, pointedly ignoring the filthy look the teen shot him in response.

The man, they learned, was the illustrious Archwood. Not that he said so exactly, but they could gather it by the loathsome look he constantly exchanged with Chris, and the subtle comments about mistakes the boy made in leading FU1. It was just plain obvious.

According to the briefing, the team plus the sisters and Leo were supposed to take a jet over the ocean, and, of course, over enemy territory to get to Mount Levee. They couldn't orb because orbs were traceable and this was designed to be beyond the Source's knowledge. They would then take the mountain path to the 'door of truths' and thus enter the Transporting Archeohauge. The team was supposed to find a device specifically made for magical protection purposes, whilst the Charmed Ones and Leo could get whatever they came to get.

"This is all under the assumption that the Source has no idea what we're up to, of course," stated Archwood, which was really more of a growl. "Paris, you're our Reader. Think you can check in on him and see what he knows?"

Paris smiled. "All the way in San Francisco? From Colorado? Yeah, it could take a while, though."

"Do it."

Choosing to ignore his lack of manners, Paris took a breath and closed her eyes, excluding herself from any further conversations.

"Reader?" repeated Piper, arching an eyebrow at the indisposed girl.

"Yeah, they read things," said Leo, looking at Paris with a newfound kind of wonder. "Things like emotions, thoughts, auras, people in general, situations, events, _everything._ They are very valuable and rare."

"You might not want to talk about her like she can't hear you," Chris advised with a slight smile. "She might be inclined to give you this God-awful look that could make a grown man want to shrivel up and die." André sighed, something other than rolling her eyes like everyone else and Joden nodded vigorously.

Blue orbs filled the room and two Elders appeared. One was Odin, ever the pessimist, and the other was a woman with red hair and brown, kind eyes. Both of them were currently looking very hassled.

The woman opened her mouth to say something, obviously important, but Odin put a hand on her shoulder. His cold eyes were glaring straight through Chris, a look of foul repugnance and anger on his countenance. "Wait, Charity," he warned, hate-filled eyes never leaving Chris. "We cannot speak in front of this filthy, traitorous, murdering little brat over here."

Chris gave him a very rude hand gesture, sending Joden into surprised laughter, which he quickly disguised as coughing fits.

"Chris," said Paris abruptly, eyes still closed. "I can't get past this asylum in Nevada. I need your-- _empathic_-- help."

"You heard her, Chris," said Odin, looking coldly victorious before the fight had even begun. "Now why don't you skedaddle."

"Oh? Well, then, why don't _you_--"

"Chris," Archwood interrupted in a warning tone. "Just take Paris to the back of the room and help her."

Glaring reproachfully, Chris rolled his chair over to Paris and pushed them both to the back of the room. There, he took Paris' hands and touched their foreheads together, closing his eyes. A red energy shield appeared around the two, barring out the sound. They concentrated together.

Phoebe watched in awe. They were really reading people from here to California, and able to pick out one certain being. It was fascinating, to say the least. She was forced to turn her attention back to the conversation with the Elders, however, and listened with something like a bored distractedness. She wished she could use her empathy like that kid could, already. She had no idea that she would think sensing people from a distance would soon seem like child's play once she saw the other things that could be done with it.

"We need this, people," Charity was saying sincerely. "…Especially since every stray trio has been trying to copy the original Volley Rampage…"

"Volley Rampage?" asked Piper, frowning.

Charity nodded gravelly. "The attack about six months ago that took out our last headquarters. Just three of the Source's single-pilot jets took out our entire base that had at least 500 men, spells, and guns protecting it. They killed so many people… completely devastating the Resistance. We had to take all we had left and start over here, basically from scratch. It was awful."

Phoebe had completely missed what the Elders had said, and they already were orbing out. Archwood turned to the two in the back. "Almost got him?"

Chris and Paris were silent, unable to hear him through the shield. It was a good ten minutes before anything happened. And what happened was that Chris and Paris simultaneously gasped, then spoke in cold and amused voices, both not their own.

"Chris, Paris, what are you doing in my head? You might not know, Paris, but Chris has already been warned about this-- _haven't you?_"

Chris was suddenly hurled violently backwards out of the energy shield and slammed against the wall. He fell to the floor, suddenly snapping out of it. The teen threw out his hands and something like a wave of tangible power soared straight at Paris. The girl gasped, indigo-blue eyes flying open. She concentrated on breathing for a moment before getting to her feet and helping Chris up.

"He doesn't know," they said in unison-- of their own free will, as they went back to their seats. Archwood nodded, as if deciding something.

Shortly, he voiced, "Alright, people, you've got twenty-four hours. Go do your thing."

The team got up and set to it.

* * *

The adult Chris watched as Bianca twirled her chestnut colored hair between her index finger and thumb. It was better watching her fiddling absently than watching the pool. He wasn't thrilled to see that mission a second time… he didn't even know if he _could_ see it a second time.

Proving what he had always suspected-- that even time itself hated him-- a pool drifted up.

_It showed Elderland. It showed the panel of Elders assembled, all with looks of pure loathing and stern resolution on their features. It showed them as they threw their cold, dark gazes down on a teenager, who was an inch from the line that separated passionate from hysterical. _

"_Christopher, we have warned you about using your whitelighter powers after we cast you down from grace," said Odin in a booming voice, giving the young one a look of purest hatred and disgust. "And we have cursed you multiple times for disregarding those orders. But since it seems to never get through to you, we have come to a decision."_

_The Chris in the pool couldn't stop the tears that streamed down his face. He couldn't stop his bloodied hands from shaking. The older Chris watching remembered that so clearly, and though he knew he couldn't watch the next part again, he couldn't tear his eyes from the glossy surface. He felt as if he was hypnotized by it. _

_Odin, in a blur of robes, waved an arm and Free Style appeared, as did a darklighter's crossbow in Odin's raised arm. The adult Chris tensed as he saw his young counterpart realize what the Elder intended to do and stumbled to his feet just a moment too late. The Elders were out from behind their white trial bench and surrounding him, holding him in place as the others ascended on his zailmate. Chris' young self was throwing something equivalent to a vehement tantrum, screaming, sobbing, struggling madly. _

_Then the other Elders grabbed Free Style. _

_The boy seized up with a sharp gasp of pain, his green eyes widening unbelievably. He couldn't move for the pain that stole his breath and shattered his mind. He couldn't think besides to acknowledge the fact that he was going to die if the pain didn't relent, if he couldn't force his lungs to breathe. If they didn't release his zail. Odin looked him directly in his shocked, stunned, and anguished green eyes._

"_We warned you."_

_He pulled the trigger of the crossbow. _

_The sixteen year old screamed an unearthly scream, knees buckling, as the poisoned arrow embedded itself in the winged wolf cub, and the two zailmates crumpled to the ground. The puppy-like zail howled in agony and the boy's face was contorted in the same emotion. The bond between the two was unmistakable, though one lay dying and the other didn't. But Chris might as well have been dying… Free Style's canine voice broke, small chest laboring, and Chris was racked with agony and grief, sobbing uncontrollably, green eyes storming different shades as he tried to see past the Elders' robes that were blocking his vision, along with the tears. Even in that moment his eyes were changing… morphing…_

_The Elders moved away from them, their eyes just as cold and unyielding as they were moments before. They did not regret their decision, even as they watched the child feebly crawl to the wolf cub's side, sobs racking his entire body as he was forced to watch and feel his mate's demise. The boy weakly pressed his hands over his zail's heart, trying with all his might to stop the bleeding. The sobs became harder once the halfblood realized there was nothing he could do and he placed the wolf's head on his lap, stroking it as though it would save the poor thing's life. As though his own life depended on it._

"_No," he croaked through the wrenching sobs. "No… please, God, no…"_

"Stop it!" The adult Chris shouted. He couldn't watch Free Style die again. He couldn't. It wasn't merely a question of staying strong; it was a nonnegotiable fact. That moment… had changed so much. Zails were animals in the world that held within them a fraction of their mate's very soul. That was why the bonds between them were so strong. That was why it hurt so badly when someone else touched it. Touching another person's spirit was one thing… but their _soul_… their very essence and life… That was why so few people risked having zails.

But when they had killed it… It had been too much.

Bianca arched an eyebrow. She would have looked haughty, was it not for the slight trace of uneasiness behind the closed doors in her eyes. Chris instantly reached out with his empathy, and there it was. She wasn't enjoying watching him suffer like she made out she was. She felt trapped. She felt lost. She felt fear. And she felt love. She still loved him.

Then why did she marry his brother? Why did she turn her back on him when he needed her so badly? Why was she doing this? He knew her-- _knew_ her damn it! She wasn't afraid to turn around and undermine the Source. She never feared consequences when it came to doing the right thing, or doing something to help someone she loved-- and she still loved him! Why wasn't she sticking to her roots and doing what she had always done? Why wasn't she helping him get where his charges were? Why wasn't she freaking _helping him_?

Bianca's eyes narrowed. "Stop reading me," she spat. "You aren't going to find what you're looking for."

Chris gave her a long, penetrating look. Bianca took an uncertain step back, regarding him with caution. Even she knew that he was finding things about her no one else ever would. Chris took a breath, never taking his eyes off her as he stated softly, "I already have."

The temporarily forgotten pool drifted away, leaving the two to gaze into the other's eyes in search of things words could never describe.

* * *

FU1, plus the Charmed Ones and Leo, packed everything they would need for hiking in near Arctic weather for overnight, and took a trip to the armory. When Piper voiced that guns didn't work on demons and warlocks, Paris replied grimly,

"Not everyone working for the Source is magical."

They packed everything into a small jet and, after waiting for Chris, their pilot, to get back from where ever he had disappeared to, were off.

Paige, blatantly uncomfortable with flying, asked in what she hoped was a steady voice, "So, Joden. You were going to tell me about FU teams?"

Joden grinned, pushing curly hair out of his twinkling green-blue eyes.

"Oh, Lord," interrupted Duncan, rolling his pitch black eyes. "You really don't want to get him started. He's obsessed with this 'hero' figure."

Joden threw him a sidelong look. Turning back to Paige, he explained.

"Okay. When this war first started about a year or so ago, the Source was destroying towns and cities. He was working on striking fear into the hearts of humans and witches alike, beginning a reign of terror. No one was strong enough to oppose him, because at the time this Resistance had only a dozen or so mediocre witches and humans. We weren't a very formidable alliance, to say the least. Hundreds of thousand innocents were dying at Evil's hand and everyone was too scared to do anything about it. Then, out of nowhere, some lone guy starts turning up at whatever town or place the Source is attacking and vanquishes every demon there. And every saved city and town is left, get this, with feathers. The demons start fearing this guy, and refused, point blank, to go into places where the guy left his trademark. Then the dude started going to places with innocents and taking them 'under his protection' by leaving a feather in the middle of town halls."

"And do you know who it was?" asked Phoebe, who had also been listening in. Everyone was, except their dear pilot, who was currently playing video games on the aircraft's satellite radar.

Joden looked like he was very much enjoying telling this. "Don't know, but some people say it was the Source's own brother, and that's why the Source tolerated it. They say his brother was a captive by him, and that's how he knew where the demons were going to be next."

"And they also say the Source's brother took the fall for each place he protected from his brother," continued André in bored tones, as though reciting a prosaism. "They say that the Source grudgingly agreed not to attack those places, after a while, if his brother would submit to take the pain and torture those innocents would have felt upon himself. Yeah, Joden, we know."

Joden glared playfully, retorting, "Yeah, but _they_ didn't."

"It's probably all lies, anyway," said Duncan coolly. "I mean, what kind of idiot would let his own brother torture him for complete strangers?"

"I can name a few," said Paris thoughtfully, speaking for the first time. Duncan rolled his eyes. Joden threw an arm delightedly around his girlfriend, earning himself a kiss.

"So what happened to him?" asked Leo, wondering himself if any of it was true.

Joden shrugged. "Don't know. Haven't heard anything about him for a few months, now. Maybe the Source finally killed him? Hey, Chris! Uh… who's flying the plane?"

"What? Oh. Auto-pilot."

"You're just sour because the computer beat you at pac-man," teased André. Chris pulled an innocent face.

"What could you possibly mean? I am merely basking in my triumph. Away from it. In here. Where computers don't gloat over the fact that they're better than you…" he ended, glowering. The team laughed.

**

* * *

TBC**

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for the update! I was waiting for more reviews, but it doesn't seem like there will be any more coming… :cries pathetically: **

**Actually, I wrote four different versions of this chapter-- COMPLETE versions like nine pages long, so it took forever to write them all and then pick one to post... I'm really hoping this one was the right choice... Why don't you review and tell me if it works:)**

**Um… I'll try to get someone to beta this next chapter, but I thought you'd want an update more than to see 'they' transformed into 'the'. Next chapter, though!**

**So how was this chapter? PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW and tell me! Like where I'm going with Chris and Bianca? Or should I make a U-turn? TELL ME! Mwahhahahahahahahah! Sorry. Got a bit carried away, there.**

**Embry: **They've pretty much hated each other ever since they met (Damien and Chris, that is).

**Chelsea: **My name's Amanda. I feel your pain and you feel mine. Wow, that's confusing (but so true).


	15. Cheese and an Archway

**Disclaimer: Me no own. You no sue. K?**

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* * *

Character key: (yeah, I realized this is starting to get confusing. Just look up here if you get too lost) **

**André: team member of FU1 **

**Duncan: vampire, and team member of FU1**

**Joden: team member of FU1 and Paris' boyfriend**

**Paris: Chris' best friend and Joden's girlfriend (also on FU1)**

**Jess/Jessie/Jessica: Chris' twin sister that commit suicide when they were nine**

**Need be reminded of who anyone else is, just ask me in a review. Don't worry, I don't bite.**

* * *

The team's chatter and horse playing was endless, Phoebe thought bemusedly as she watched them joking around even at the present moment, three hours into the flight. 

"Okay, o-okay," Joden managed through the peels of laughter Duncan's most embarrassing story had caused. "Paris… you go! Most embarrassing story!"

Paris, who had found Duncan's story more mortifying than funny, didn't have a problem speaking. But she did laugh as she considered her own stories. "Okay. I guess it would have to be the time we were trapped in the Source's dungeons longer than planned, and I had 'lady's promise' in a dungeon cell with Duncan and Chris. Chris had to get the Source to supply with tampons and regular bathroom breaks."

"No way," gasped André, barely able to contain her shocked laughter, and doing a much better job than Duncan and Joden. "And the Source just gave it all to you?"

Paris laughed lightly. "Yeah. Chris and the Source have a world of their own when they're together. It wasn't hard, either, since the Source is very civilized about those sorts of things."

Pretty much everyone in the plane laughed, including the ones from the past. They weren't finding it hard to fit in and feel like a part of the group, especially since the team made every effort to include them in conversations and jokes. Paige had even felt comfortable enough around them to tell them about the time she had broken a mirror in school just by looking at it, and laughed with them when they inevitably did. The entire team was just like a group of kids, they were so young (except Duncan, who turned out to be 225) and playful of spirit. And this bunch of kids had saved the world at least a dozen times since the war had begun only a year or so ago. The ones from the past frankly found it amazing how little the horrors of the world around the team seemed to effect them, so that they could still be sitting here, lightly fooling around like they were.

"Okay, Chris," laughed Piper, after having told about the time she was caught by the vice principal drawing mustaches on pictures of the principal around the school bulletin boards. "You haven't gone yet. Your turn."

Chris pulled a comical face. "Embarrassing… hell no. Embarrassing and funny… that would have to be the time with Cheese."

At this, the rest of the FU team burst out in howls of laughter, Joden falling off his seat and rolling around on the ground while the others pounded their chairs in utter mirth. The ones from the past were lost. "Cheese?"

Chris, shaking his head mildly, simply flicked his fingers and used a miniature 3-D image to explain.

"_Hey, you guys," said André running up and holding aloft a remote control thingy. "Check this out! It conjures whatever it is you're thinking at the moment."_

_The rest of the team was interested and watched as she pointed it at Joden and a turkey sandwich appeared, but Chris was busy over some computer, rewiring the hardware and not paying attention. André, sharing a mischievous, wicked smile with Paris, Joden, and Duncan, pointed it at the unsuspecting Chris and hit the button._

_What should appear but a giant, winged camel wearing haughty bifocals. That caught the boy's attention. "Wow! That looks just like what I was thinking about a second ago!"_

_The camel, narrowing his eyes, smacked the boy over the head with a cloven hoof. "Of course I do, you idiot! Were you not paying attention?" the camel demanded in a fancy Irish accent, sending the team into howls of laughter. _

"_Man, you just got told by a talking camel with wings!" Joden snorted. The camel also smacked Joden, replying primly,_

"_I'll have you know I am not 'a talking camel with wings'! I am named Cheese, and I'll also have you know I have a degree in psychology!"_

The memory ended, Chris looking very tired and the team howling, still. Without an explanation, Chris got up and went into the pilot's pit.

"What's he doing?" asked Phoebe, concerned as she looked at the closed door.

"I don't-- don't know," managed André through her laughter. "Prob-probably to make sure the Source can't s-sense us flying over his ter-territory. Good grief, that never gets old!" she ended, referring to the winged, talking camel with a degree in psychology named Cheese.

Chris reappeared about thirty minutes later. He looked a little disconcerted but nothing too unusual, and joined back in the team's talking without much of a problem. They had managed to fly over the Source's territory even after Damien's threat without a problem… Something wasn't right.

It was another two hours before they reached the tall snowcapped mountain, Mount Levee. The team, Charmed, and Elder companions dismounted from the jet and gathered their packs. The team began the long hike up the mountain like it was a walk in the park, but the sisters and Leo found it a little more difficult. They could battle demons, yes, but the almost vertical hike up a rocky mountain path was beyond them.

The team continued their cheerful, light chatter, unaware of the ones that were beginning to lag behind farther and farther. But at last, Chris noticed the team's guests as they were almost to the point of being out of eyesight, they were getting so far behind.

"Hey, guys," he said, interrupting Joden's tale of a werewolf encounter a few days ago. "Wait for me up there, will you? I'm completely tired out."

"Why? I thought Prue said you actually slept last night," pointed out André, arching an eyebrow.

Chris' eyes narrowed. "She did, did she…? Anyway…" He waved, as in 'goodbye, get lost, don't talk back'. The team laughed and kept going, leaving Chris to sit down on a boulder and wait on the others.

When the four reached him they were at a loss for words. It was such a simple little act, waiting on them like he did, but coming from this boy it seemed so strange… he didn't even know them.

Phoebe, struggling to say something to ease the silence, began offhandedly, "Um… we, um…"

But she stopped as Chris offered them a slight half-smile, his eyes not judging or expecting anything. Just the smile. He got up from his perch and led the way silently back to the rest of the team. The Charmed Ones and Leo followed, feeling very stupid and at a loss for what to say.

They met up with the others shortly.

"What've we got?" asked Chris, indicating the flat, smooth surface of the mountainside where a giant archway was carved into the stone, ancient looking runes above it.

"Ancient Fairy, by the looks," said Paris, tracing a finger over the runes. "Feels old, duh. And… haughty. Like it knows we're primitive beings or something. It definitely doesn't like us. Can you read any of it, Chris?"

She turned to see Chris gazing intently at it. "It says something along the lines of, 'Ask a question, see a truth'. But it rhymes in that language, so, 'Answers sought be known, truths to be seen, shown'."

He realized it was meant to be a spell too late. At that moment, the entire mountainside began shaking, the high archway glowing golden. Loose rocks scattered around them, and the people backed up away from the flying debris.

"We have to ask a question to open the door!" Paris shouted above the thunderous rumbling. "Someone, hurry! It won't last much longer!"

"Okay!" Joden yelled, shielding his face from the flying and falling rocks. "Rock-buddy, how do we find the artifacts once we're inside!"

The rumbling graduated to a silence, and the center of the archway began to swirl in a vortex of color. They cautiously stepped over rocks and made their way to see what it was about to show them. Paris looked up at Joden, who stood about four inches taller than her.

"Nice question," she commented. Joden smiled and kissed her on the lips.

"Ugh, get a room," chorused several voices, making the couple laugh as they turned their attention back to the wall.

The vortex had settled on a single image at a time, and it was currently showing…holes. One hole in the ground after another hole in the ground. After a confusing moment, it showed a wall with the ancient fairy runes on it, then another, and another, until the number of walls equaled the number of holes.

The images stopped, and suddenly the stone within the archway vanished entirely. The team, Charmed Ones, and Elder shared looks, each eyeing the vast open hole of the newly formed door.

"I guess we go in," said Paige with a shrug.

"And follow the holes!" declared Joden, leading the charge into earthen tunnel with a battle cry. André, Paige, Phoebe, and Leo charged after him with similar exclamations. Chris, Paris, and Piper, however, stood back and watched them with their arms crossed.

"Yeah," said Chris, nodding speculatively as they watched the ones disappearing into the distance, still crying strange sounds. "You can tell they really like their jobs."

The two women nodded and the three began their calm walk after the 'war heroes'.

"You know," stated Paris calmly, "that this entire place is laughing at us."

* * *

"Fine, then," snapped the adult Chris, giving up after so many vain attempts at getting Bianca to help him. "If you aren't going to listen to reason, then I guess I am going to have to leave without your help." 

Bianca smirked. "Good luck."

Chris scowled, one not-so-very-nice word running through his head. He turned to take in his surroundings methodically, strategically. But there wasn't much to see that could help his situation. He noticed his younger counterpart as he, Piper, and Paris followed after his team. His team before it had become so broken… But-- he had been working on Bianca-- fruitlessly-- for that whole flight, for over four hours? _Dang!_

_Chris_, he scolded himself, remembering he had a task to do. _Get to work! No more regretful reminiscing!_

He looked around him once more, taking in everything meticulously. There had to be something… except he was sidetracked yet again.

"Come on, Bianca! What happened that turned you? You would never give in just because he asked you, or you were mad at me! You are better than that!"

The woman arched an eyebrow. "Wow, finally realizing not everything is just in black and white, are you, Chris? Well, I should hope so. I mean, you are eighteen, and most people figure it out before that tender age."

"Eighteen-- a tender age?" repeated Chris with a harsh laugh to cover up how his heart sank. _Wow_, he thought. _How many lies have I actually told my family? I mean, twenty-two? Who in their right minds would believe I was any older than twenty, at the MOST? _"The one year I can finally get away is not exactly a bad, tender year, Bianca. And need I remind you that you, also, are eighteen? And you really don't seem like anything I say is honestly going to mean a whole hell of a lot to you."

"You're point?"

"Don't say tender. Neither one of us has been tender for a long time."

Bianca's gaze locked with his own, something flickering behind those dark brown spheres. Something like familiarity, something that showed she knew who her fiancé was… she knew he wasn't just any other captive. She knew that they were alike in at least that one way.

Chris smiled coldly. He already knew that. He already knew that _she_ knew that. So… why then did he feel hope accompanying that look? Maybe he just felt that she was finally allowing a connection with him… Maybe he could use that to get to her…

* * *

Once the three had caught up with the others, who had had to stop when they ran out of breath, they began again together. It wasn't long before Chris suddenly fell forward and hit the ground, with a muffled, 

"Found the first hole."

As soon as Paris had helped him to his feet, the wall beside the accursed hole began to glow, and ancient runes appeared. Chris cocked his head to one side and read, "_To the person who triggered this, honest you shall be. Your intentions are driven by good, though the definition does not seem pretty. Love has a different meaning to everyone, go now, you and the Reading One_." He made a face. "What the he--"

But just then a bright stream of light blasted from the wall and hit both him and Paris in the chest.

"Love is something everyone needs to live," Paris said, looking as confused as to why she was saying this as everyone else. Her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. "Love is something that makes the worst situation not seem so bad, or insurmountable. It is something everyone needs unconditionally, and everyone should always look for. Love is love." She made a face, as though waiting to see if her mouth had anything to add, and cocked a thoughtful eyebrow when it remained quiet.

The light that had hit Chris took action, and his mouth said coldly, "Love is not something that should be celebrated or looked for. It's cold, and it's broken, and it only makes betrayal hurt worse. It's never unconditional and it's never free. Love is the thing that breaks families and friends and every person you love will die, as the price to pay for taking the chance on it." He, too, waited to see if his mouth was done, and when he decided it was, mused, "Hm. That was weird."

Everyone was staring at him as though he had a naked dwarf flying around his head like a halo.

"Geez, I bet you were a happy little kid, weren't you?" voiced Joden, breaking the silence at last.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Let's just go. And I'm not triggering the next hole." Little did he know… As soon as he started walking again, he fell forward as he tripped over the next hole. "_DAMN IT!_"

The wall next to this hole lit up, ancient runes forming again. Chris groaned. "Do I _have_ to read it? Can't we just ignore the little signs?"

Everyone in the cave-like tunnel crossed their arms. Chris groaned again, but stood up, nonetheless. He read the inscription. "_Bright and cheery one you are not, but you cannot help how your definition reflects the life you've got. Your strength lies in your honest intentions, but how well do you fair under emotional confrontations?_" He sighed heavily, voicing, "This sucks."

" 'Emotional confrontation' ?" repeated Duncan and Leo as one. The vampire and Elder shared curious looks.

Chris arched an eyebrow at that, thinking 'creepy', but replying, "I don't know, but there wasn't a blast of light. Would somebody else like to walk over here? Preferably directly in front of me?" He was having a very hard time keeping a straight face as he added the last part, and when the team laughed, he couldn't help but join in.

They continued walking.

The tunnel was dark and the constant drip of underground water was audible with every step. The ones who had charged in madly had taken down an old-fashioned torch, and now Chris produced his oh-so-familiar lighter and set a flame to it. The shadows it cast flickered like they were alive, seriously creeping out Phoebe and André. As they continued their slower march, the footsteps echoed eerily like a troop of soldiers closing in around them in the gathering darkness. The otherwise silence was unnerving.

The silence, that was, until the FU team began to sing 'The wheels on the bus', the Charmed Ones joining in readily, and Leo shaking his head sadly at the strange scene going on around him.

"_And the driver of the bus goes_-- good grief, Chris!" said Paris very suddenly, making Chris turn slightly to see her clearer.

"What?" he asked.

Paris stopped almost angrily in her tracks, continuing earnestly, "Can't you see why I _have_ to? I don't have a choice! And you know I never wanted it to end this way but--"

"Jess, stop talking like that!" shouted Joden, stomping his foot. The entire team had stopped walking and singing now.

"Joden, what--?" began Phoebe, but halted when she caught sight of Chris' face. It was completely white, even by the standards of the torch's orange cast. He was staring at Paris as though… as though she didn't know what. The look made her heart clutch in her chest, though.

"Look!" Joden continued just as earnestly. "Just a little while longer! That's all, and we can get out of here. They have to have found someone else to take--"

"No!" said Paige suddenly, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't stand just a few more days, Chris! I mean… look what they can do to us in just a few hours." Paige threw out her arms as though the exhibit something they couldn't see. "And you know what can happen in just a few days. Especially what _will _happenonce they find out where we went--"

"But we don't have to go back!" cried Duncan desperately. "We can run away, orb to Tokyo or somewhere they'll never find us until someone else can help us!"

"No," sobbed André. "You promised last time that Paige could help find us another family, and she didn't! She just called mom to come and pick us up, because she, like everyone one else, thought we were lying! Come on, Chris. We can't live like this forever!"

"And we don't have to," whispered Leo, somewhat dazed, and yet panic interlacing his every syllable. "We can find someone else. Paige isn't the only social worker in the world. Please, Jess. Please don't do this. It doesn't have to be this way."

"Yes it does," countered Piper with heart chilling finality in her voice. "But you can come with me. We don't have to be separated, Chris. We can leave this world together!"

"No," whispered Chris, that unfathomable expression still locked in his eyes. "Please, Jess. Please don't. We can go somewhere else together, but we don't have to leave this world to get there. Please, don't do this."

Phoebe stomped her foot, exasperated. "Why don't you want to?" she demanded. "They treat you even worse than me! Why would you choose this hell over me?"

"Jess, it can get better!" insisted Paris hoarsely. "Please, just give me a chance to make it better."

"It can't get any better," replied André softly. "Nothing ever gets better for us. You know that just as well as I do."

"Jessie, please…"

"Goodbye, Chris," breathed Piper, and the next thing they knew Joden was screaming,

"_JESSICA!_"

**

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A/n: Yeah… I didn't have this chapter beta-d. I had another version of this chapter proof-read, but I decided this morning that I didn't like it, and I'd already said I'd post a chapter today, so… sue me. Anyway, what'd ya think? Wondering what the other 'booby-traps' are like? Review! **

**And thank you everyone who reviewed last chapter! I'm loving the support! **


	16. Vaytei

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed… yet.**

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* * *

André: team member of FU1**

**Duncan: vampire, and team member of FU1**

**Joden: team member of FU1 and Paris' boyfriend**

**Paris: Chris' best friend and Joden's girlfriend (also on Fu1)**

* * *

"_JESSICA!_"

Chris stumbled backwards into the wall of the tunnel, green eyes as round as saucers and glittering. There was still that indescribable expression on his face, in his eyes, buried there immutably.

Piper gasped sharply and fell to the ground as Joden screamed Jessica's name, tears streaming down both their faces. Piper's eyes closed.

"No," Chris whispered, knees buckling, eyes never leaving Piper's prostrate form. Something significant was taking place behind the closed doors of his eyes, but what ever it was it was tied to the implacable expression. "Please, no," he breathed, unaware of the others that were coming out of the spell. Piper stirred, moaning as her body ached all over, but Chris didn't seem to be really looking at her. He continued to stare at the spot she had fallen, expressions fleeting across his face in numbers. At length, as the company rubbed their temples as if from hangovers, Chris closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His mind seemed to have registered the fact that he wasn't with his sister anymore, that he was in the company of ones who didn't even know his last name seven years later. He didn't have a choice but to bury and suppress the renewed pain.

"Chris," began André timidly, wiping the stray tears away, "what was that? Who was Jessie?"

The boy sighed, slowly opening his eyes and accepting Paris' hand up. Looking anywhere but at his companions' faces, he responded shakily, "She… was my sister."

"Was?" repeated Joden quietly, eyes on the ground.

"Yeah… she died that day. I… I think the spell meant that when it said 'emotional confrontation'. It must have done something to… to make you all repeat a piece of our… our last conversation…" Chris responded, his voice soft and forced. It was clear to everyone present he didn't want to be here right now.

Paris, sensing where this conversation was going, quickly intervened. "Um… why don't you go ahead? Chris and I will catch up in a minute."

The rest of FU1 and others, seeing no excuse they could rationally make to stay, obeyed humbly. They could all still feel the intense emotions that came with the spell surging through them as shadows of the real things. They knew the one who had really been there would need more than a minute to collect himself before he could even look them in the eyes, let alone talk to them about it.

Phoebe's last glimpse of Paris and Chris, before they turned the corner, was of the two sitting cross-legged in front of each other. They weren't talking. They were just there, sharing a single unwavering look, communicating in a way no one else would ever be able to understand. Communicating in a way that put everything else beautiful and meaningful to shame. Phoebe sighed, heart aching for reasons beyond her perception.

Joden and Leo were talking about Star Wars before the two finally caught up with them some twenty minutes later. Phoebe got the feeling Chris and Paris had started after them after only a few minutes, still keeping a distance as to not be overheard when they finally did begin speaking. The pair rejoined them in remarkably better spirits, and didn't have trouble joining in the ever changing conversations. Whatever Paris had told Chris seemed to have done the trick.

After a half hour of nothing unusual, the walls abruptly stopped on either side of them, opening out into a wide cavern. Intrigued, the company entered and peered around. On the walls were what looked like cave drawings and more ancient runes. In the center of the room was a raised stone table with unidentifiable objects cast about it. There was no exit leading out of the cavern.

"Think we have to solve a puzzle or something like in the movies?" Joden asked, eyes twinkling mischievously as they mulled around the room. The others chorused soft agreements, each looking into something separate as they tried to figure out what exactly the puzzle might be.

"Hey Starlighter, come take a look at this," Paris called distractedly from the table. Chris glanced up and came over to where she was and quickly deciphered the runes beside her.

"Olympian," he commented thoughtfully. "Think it means--?"

But Joden interrupted with a laugh, "Wait-- did she just call you _Starlighter_?"

The others in the room looked up, attention just as piqued. Paris and Chris looked stunned, both momentarily opening their mouths and closing them again with slight laughs, at a loss for what to say. At last, Chris managed to piece together, "It was… a nickname I had throughout school. And Paris… um, went to school with me."

"Okay, but how did a nickname like that _start_?" asked Duncan, finding all of this extremely amusing.

Chris and Paris shared another lost, blushing look.. Haltingly, Chris said by way of explanation, "I… um… used to have a problem with running away… at night. And people at school didn't find it hard to realize why I had an ankle bracelet, so they always teased me about it."

"An ankle bracelet?" snorted Paige disbelievingly. "You ran away so often they put you under house arrest?"

Chris glared at her, crossing his arms. "Oh, laugh it up. You would have too if you had to be raised in that hellhole."

That shut her up. Then she remembered something. "You said, or Jessica rather, that Paige wouldn't help you. Did you mean… Paige Matthews? The Charmed One?"

Chris gazed at her, and for a moment fear struck Paige's heart. In that moment it looked as though he could see her through the glamour. But it only lasted a moment before he sighed and looked away. "Yeah, Paige Matthews."

Paige was more than a little confused. "But… I know her. She wouldn't ever send you back to your parents, especially if you said they were hurting you."

Again, Chris' eyes seemed to be able to see straight through her mask, but he looked back to the runes on the table just as quickly as he had previously. "She did."

"But why?" Paige pressed. She just couldn't leave it alone. She knew she wouldn't send abused children back to their abusers. She knew it. All they had to do was say the word and she would have had their parents arrested.

Chris didn't even look up this time. He was examining something like a clay pot with symbols carved all around its edges. "She didn't believe me. My parents weren't exactly known for being anything but good and perfect. She apologized though. At Jessie's funeral. She said she was sorry my sister was dead and sorry she hadn't believed me." The sardonic tone wasn't unnoticed.

Phoebe was giving Paige a look that said 'drop it'. But she still couldn't. Being a social worker had mattered to her, and she couldn't believe she would screw up that bad. "So did she help you after that?"

"What does it matter?" Chris snapped, clearly annoyed by the prying. Paige gave him a look that showed she needed to know, momentarily startling the boy. Not having the heart to let her down, Chris sighed and set the pot back on the table and picked up a bowl. "Not really. She tried, and sent me to several other foster families, but it never worked out. The first one was a demonic couple just after my power, the second were psychopaths intent on murdering me, and the third completely lost it when they realized they had agreed to foster a wiccan freak. Did anybody else hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Joden, looking around warily. His hand went to his belt, where several guns were strapped expertly.

Chris held up his hand in the 'shut up' motion. He and Paris became completely silent, both seemingly hearing, feeling, or seeing things beyond the others' range of perception.

"The atmosphere shifted," Paris murmured, still concentrating. "I'm reading evil all over the place. It feels like… oh no, Green Pins!"

"What are Green Pins?" asked Leo, voicing what the Charmed Ones were thinking. The team, who had begun looking for another exit hastily, stopped and stared at them.

"You're not from around here, are you?" André said with a trace of a smile. When the others shook their heads, she replied, "Green Pins are demons, most upper level, all hand picked by the Source himself to be in the 'specific purpose' group. There are other groups, like Blue Pins who are spies, Yellow Pins are first line defense, Brown Pins are general offence, and so forth. The Green Pins are the assassins sent after FU members. Each one has a specific member they fight because they have some power that can get past our own and kill us."

The ones from the past nodded in understanding, all wondering vaguely if there were any Green Pins sent to kill them. Chris, already on another page, asked Paris, "Can you Read anything in this room with a particular air of mystery or haughtiness? I'm not getting anything distinct."

Paris considered, then pointed to a wall. The two shared a look that no other could interpret, then Chris walked over to the wall and, taking a breath, waved his hand over it. Symbols appeared in a scarlet glow of light from one end all the way to the other. He cocked his head to the side. "Something we fear. This space is…" he paused, considering the set in front of him. It seemed to be one he wasn't familiar with. "This is… failure, I think. Abstract and of low esteem. That one is… also abstract… but I think it's loss. That one is… something that hasn't happened yet. The future, maybe? The one over there is… love or binding ties of love, something along in there. And that last one over there on the other side of future is…" He hesitated. "That one is… either the past, or past memories."

The troupe assembled at their honest fears. Paige and Joden stood in front of failure. Piper and André in front of loss. Phoebe and Duncan stood before love ties, and Leo, after debating, went to stand by Piper in loss. Paris and Chris shared yet another look, and after a moment the two smiled. As one, Paris stood in front of future and Chris stood in front of past.

The wall glowed and more runes appeared. Chris studied them for a moment before reading with a wry smile. "_The fears of many these walls cover, but one is different. How do you fear something that is already over?_"

"I think it's talking to you, Chris," Joden whispered loudly behind his hand, making Paris and Chris both laugh.

"How do I fear something that's already over…?" Chris pondered thoughtfully, eyes lost in contemplation. "I don't know… I'm afraid of the past's power to repeat itself, I suppose."

The stone wall in front of them shook, before grating backwards, then sideways out of their path. Sighing with relief, the team led the way out of the vast room, anxious to put as much space between them and the Green Pins as they could. The Charmed ones and Leo got the hint and followed quickly.

* * *

"Okay, Chris!" Bianca snapped, aggravated. "You can freakin' stop now!"

She quickly ducked as a lasso of fire ricocheted off the bubble and flew back at her. Chris clasped his hand into a fist, extinguishing it before it could burn her. She got back to her feet, eyes almost literally flaming.

Chris sighed, thinking back on his current situation. He couldn't help but brood over the fact that he was trapped in a place outside of time itself with his ex-frigging-fiancée, who was intent on making him crack by watching the Charmed Ones and Leo slowly uncover his many secrets. And even though he now knew Bianca didn't _want_ to hurt him, it didn't change the fact that she still was going to, just to prove something to his brother. Something about her wanting to rule the world by his side… He still didn't get it, though. Chris knew she loved him, so why wasn't she budging the tiniest bit to help? He bit back a growl as he thought back on the more current happenings.

The using of their 'connection' had been a complete failure. The woman was a closed book with reinforced steel locks, and now he was trying to break through the bubble that was transporting them around the realm outside of time using telekinesis, his own shield, and recently fire.

Nothing seemed to work.

"Well, it was worth a shot," he commented, crossing his arms and sighing dejectedly. "Do _you_ even know how to get out of here?"

Bianca smiled, something that was making Chris sick to his stomach now that he knew she didn't want to. "No," she smirked. "But Wyatt does."

* * *

The tunnel was wider than it had been before the massive cavern, and now there were lit torches in racks on the walls, showing them where any of the holes might be. They saw none and didn't hesitate to take advantage. They ran.

Only a few minutes in, who should trip and fall forward on a hole that hadn't been there two seconds ago, but Chris. The teen swore so loudly his voice reverberated throughout the stony tunnel. "-- Geez-zus Chrisst! Why iss it pick'een o'n mey?" the teen demanded in a strange, but beautiful (despite the choice of words) accent.

The ones in his presence looked surprised and amused. "What did you say?" queried Joden, eyes twinkling teasingly. When Chris threw him a death look, the other young man continued, innocently mystified, "I mean, I thought you told us you were from San Francisco, but that accent sure wasn't."

Chris glared, refusing to answer. As the wall lit up with the lavender runes, he read them out in a determined American accent. "_What a mystery your past remains. Where you're from, friends ask in vain. Healthy friendship fairies are thus fixated, let the few see the time debated_."

"What does it mean, 'fairies are thus fixated'?" asked Duncan in an arching voice.

"This place was apparently rigged by fairies," Paris responded with a smile, watching aloofly as a stream of green light poured into her friend's face. "And they are very happy, friendly little people."

They watched the scene unfold with interest. It was of a very young Chris, maybe four or five, sitting cross-legged on a bed in a spacious room with multiple books scattered around him. There was a very strangely colored raven sitting perched on his shoulder. Besides him and his black and scarlet raven, every single thing was white-- the walls, the floors, the bed and sheets, the book covers and pages, the door, everything. As he sat reading, in walked a woman dressed in the traditional Elder garb. The woman was Charity. "_Lyei nona theh_?" she asked in a very beautiful language, coming to sit next to him. He looked up, his expression distant. He responded in the same language, seemingly in a bored, frustrated mood.

She wrinkled her nose playfully and wiggled her finger, as if to scold him, saying in the language, "_Nadiv tu. Dei en madis so ley_."

The boy rolled his eyes, saying dejectedly, "_Es-sunya. Ena so mahdi_."

Joden looked shocked. "Look! You didn't have white hair!"

Chris stared at him as though not quite able to believe Joden could have said that. "Oh yeah, 'cause we all know how I was born with white hair," he remarked sarcastically, absently brushing his white bangs out of his face.

"Translation?" asked André, completely lost as the scene swirled, changing.

"Something along the lines of, 'Hey, what's up?' 'Nothing, thanks to you.' 'Don't try it. You've been playing evil again.' 'Can you blame me? It's boring around here.'" Chris responded in a single breath, ending with a wrinkled nose. "A time when English sounds like you've got sticks in your mouth."

"Yeah," said Paris, reminiscent. "You used to have such a pretty accent before San Francisco rubbed off on you."

Chris laughed and Leo asked curiously, "What did you do? She made it sound as though you were grounded."

Chris looked clueless as he wracked his brain for that particular memory. "I don't know… it might have been the time I was skateboarding and crashed into the council during one of their meetings. I think that was when I broke Odin's arm, too."

"So that's why he hates you," remarked Duncan thoughtfully.

Chris laughed. "Oh, no. That man has hated me _long_ before that." But for what reasons, Chris didn't elaborate.

The scene settled again on a Chris, maybe two or three years older, who was sitting in a classroom at a table, his group sitting around the table with him. A girl suddenly voiced, looking up from her book at Chris, "I don't understand this. Could you spell it out for me, please?"

Looking somewhat taken aback, Chris raised an eyebrow. "This is Social Studies," he said in a breathtakingly beautiful and flourishing accent, alien to California. "What is there to not get?"

"Yeah, I don't understand it either," said another girl, gazing at him with wide eyes. "Why don't you just read it all aloud for us?"

"Did I miss something?" the 'out of country' boy asked in that continuously stunning accent, bewildered.

Another boy clapped him on the shoulder seriously, unaware of Chris' flinch, saying solemnly, "They just love hearing you speak, amigo."

Chris gave him a look patented to himself and himself only. "I'm not Spanish."

The scene ended, leaving all eyes on Chris.

"Do Whitelighters and Elders speak two different languages or something?" asked Piper, remembering the click-y language her husband had spoken to the other woman Whitelighter a few years ago. Chris nodded absently, lost in thought.

The rest of the team was smiling, though, and André cocked her head to the side. "Why don't you use that accent anymore? It's so pretty."

Chris glared. "Why don't you ask Duncan why he doesn't use his Scottish accent anymore?"

"Duncan's Scottish?" chorused several voices, turning to look at the vampire, who in turn looked at Chris.

"How did you know?" Duncan asked with a distant curiosity in his eyes.

Chris shrugged, "Your syllables are phrased a little weird sometimes. Nothing big though."

Duncan arched an eyebrow as if in consideration before he suddenly fell where he was standing. The group burst out laughing, until the same light that had shone in Chris' face splashed into Duncan's. They fell silent to watch.

The image was centered around a little boy, so they knew it had to be Duncan at a young age. But the boy didn't look like the vampire standing before them today. The little seven or eight year old had sandy brown hair and bright honey brown eyes. And he was clearly lost.

All around him adults rushed madly in every direction, pushing and jostling him as he cried in a foreign accent for his mama. Suddenly, out of nowhere, swept a woman garbed completely in black, loose and flowing clothes. The woman gathered him into her arms, ignoring the boy's fierce struggling then shimmered out with him.

The two reappeared in a vast cavern, next to a dark stone throne with a man in billowing black robes. Everyone watching immediately recognized the universal, classic signs of a Source. The woman threw the little Duncan down at the evil overlord's feet and bowed as the boy scrambled up, shivering and frightened.

"Where are w-we?" the young one asked in a shaky, young Scottish accent. "Where's m-my mama? Who are you p-people?"

The Source laughed, a sound that reverberated in the massive torch-lit cavern. "Yes, very good catch, Minerva. You may take him to the hunting plane."

"H-hunting p-plane?" repeated Duncan's young self with nervousness and fear. "What are y-you going to do with me?"

They could see the Source's evil grin even behind the shadow of the hood. "You, little human, are going to be hunted, on a magical plane where no one will ever find you, by my minions for sport. You are going to be a new vaytei. Do you understand that, human child?" he asked mockingly, then laughed a terrible, heart chilling laugh. "Of course you don't. But you will in time. You will. Now take him, Minerva."

The demon, with the same evil look, took Duncan's little arm and shimmered out with him. This time they reappeared in some kind of a jungle. It was nighttime. With a cruel and amused laugh, the demon, Minerva, flung the little boy on the overgrown ground and shimmered out, leaving him alone in the cold darkness.

It seemed like ages passed with the young one running desperately in unsystematic directions, simply trying to get away from the night sounds in the jungle. The small child was scared almost to death.

The ones observing, now in a half-horrified state, gradually felt that a length of time was passing, until it settled again on a day maybe a few weeks later. The child's clothes were torn and filthy when he suddenly went crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. He bit back a sob and curled forward to see his ankle, which was caught in some kind of metal jaw-like trap, crimson blood spilling from the deep, jagged wound. An open sob of pain and misery escaped him.

Then, onto the scene strode a woman, her long and wild hair black, her eyes endless tunnels of darkness. She moved with the feline grace of a huntress as she wove her way calmly to the small child. Her eyes locked onto Duncan's young brown ones and held them unyieldingly. As she reached him, the woman bent down and opened the trap with apparent ease, those dark coals never leaving the boy's face.

Duncan shakily moved his leg out of the way of the contraption, He didn't even try to stand. He knew he couldn't. And the huntress knew, too. For a moment, their contrasting eyes remained locked, and then, suddenly she was on him, her elongated fangs sinking into the child's exposed neck, reveling in his dying scream.

The memory faded into black. The ones witnessing were left speechless.

_So that's what a vaytei is_, mused Paige numbly. _Someone demons hunt for sport… _

It really was, as Paris said, sick.

She turned to see the adult Duncan, wild and silky black hair, pale complexion, and deep black eyes, looking at the stone wall as though still able to see something there that no one else could. The vampire's guarded and reinforced walls had cracked just enough to let a tiny light of honest emotion show through. That emotion was much like the one Chris had shown as they acted out his last conversation with his sister. Paige, like Phoebe, just couldn't place it.

"Duncan," began Paris softly, obviously Reading him the most thoroughly of those present. "That didn't happen because of anything you did. There was nothing you could have done to stop it. You have to understand that."

And even though her speech was short and simple, they could see how much it meant to Duncan, even as he voiced with a slight smile, "It sounds like you've had a lot of practice saying that."

Paris smiled sadly. "Yeah, it comes with being friends with that one for too long," she nodded to Chris, who rolled his eyes, but didn't complain. If it meant easing the awkward tension that was filling the wide tunnel, and thus making his teammate feel better, he couldn't object.

As soon as the troupe started walking again, however, Chris stumbled and swore loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Hey," protested Joden, turning to Paris, mock affronted. "How come you don't tell him to stop swearing?"

"Because I have to remind him to not do other things," said Paris sweetly, kissing Joden on the cheek. Joden beamed and returned her kiss full on the lips, succeeding in making the others chorus the 'get a room' mantra.

Lights flickered more hesitantly onto the wall. Paris and Chris shared a sidelong look before the boy read out, "_Wisdom states life without family is for naught. Mother and sister gone, but father and brothers are not. Yet never content were you. So what then did you go through?_"

Chris swore again under his breath as the telltale green light flooded upon his face.

**

* * *

A/N: For those who may not know, an ankle bracelet is like a small plastic box the police department puts on the person's ankle (duh) when the person gets put under house arrest. The police can track the thing and know where the person is 24-7 using computers and satellites and stuff (GPS). House arrest is where a person can't legally go out of their house unless the police know exactly where it is that they are going (and when they should be back home).**

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone! I love hearing feedback! And yeah, I know this is getting complicated, so if you have any questions, ask in a review and I'll email you back personally if I can. **

**Leah**: YES! Someone actually noticed that! The only difference is that they don't change shapes (except when Chris' melded with Jessica's, but that was just weird). Those are awesome books, though, aren't they?


	17. Capital of France

**Disclaimer: This kinda gets old after sixteen freaking chapters. Just read the word disclaimer and make assumptions. I refuse to say those four little words again. **

Chris swore again under his breath as the telltale green light flooded into his face. But, just as soon, Paris had stepped in front of him, and the light reflected from her mind instead. Chris shot her a querying look.

Paris smiled wryly. "You've had enough of a bad day, Chris. Let me take this one. My childhood wasn't as bad."

The images appeared on the wall. It showed Paris, but young. She was maybe seven, her hair shoulder length but just as raven black, and her indigo eyes just as blue and penetrating. She was in a living room, apparently at her house, and it was late. She was in the middle of an intense argument with a woman that was obviously her mother. "Come on, Mama! Why can't you just tell me? You know I'm not normal, I know I'm not normal, so why can't you just--"

"Paris, there is no such thing as normal, but if there was, you would be just that," the mother retorted at her best calm. This seemed to be a certain climax of the arguing, judging by the fact the two looked very flushed and frustrated.

Paris stomped her foot angrily. "Mama, stop pretending! There is nothing normal about the way I know things without even asking! Nothing!"

"You know?" repeated the woman, who went by Mrs. Whitmire. "Maybe you're just extra sensitive, sweetie, and some people are."

"Sensitive? Mama, I'm seven, and I know things about everything that nobody knows! Like you and Daddy, for example. I know that you're afraid he's going to leave us, Mama, and I know that Daddy is tired of--"

"Paris," said Mrs. Whitmire in a warning tone, looking quite shocked. "Your father is not going anywhere. Watch what you say, young lady."

The young Paris was now crying openly. "No! I've felt him, too, and he's tired of having us tying him down! He didn't know that I would be born when you two--- and if I hadn't been, he would have left you years ago! Mama, I know it! And he is going to leave us as soon as he gets a promotion at work so he can pay for child support! Please-- I'm seven! I shouldn't know these things, Mama. What's the matter with me?"

Mrs. Whitmire was just staring at her. After a moment, she managed to say through gritted teeth, "Paris Adrienne Whitmire, your father is not going to leave us. He loves us very much. Do you understand me?"

The scene blackened and faded out. Paris let out a small breath she had unconsciously been holding. For a moment there was silence, then Phoebe asked, feeling a sudden connection with the girl, "He left, didn't he?"  
Paris gave a small smile. "The first thing I ever predicted with my Reading ability, and five years in advance. My mom never quite looked at me the same since. But that argument was probably my worst memory concerning my family-- and it didn't turn out to be that bad, really. He and my mom got divorced, he bought the house next door, we almost always had dinner together-- it was like we were still a family, just a little more widespread."

"Okay," said Joden at last, clapping his hands to draw them back to the moment. "Shall we get going before the Green Pins come and kick our collective asses?"  
It was all the reminding they needed. With that they set off, regaining their speed quickly. They didn't get far, however, before Paris stopped them again. At their questioning looks, she said a little guiltily, "I... um... tripped a hole." And true to her word, the writing on the wall appeared.

Chris' eyes twinkled as he and Paris' gazes locked and she gave a short laugh. She appeared somewhat nervous. Chris read, tearing their eyes apart teasingly, "_Such a girl there never was, driven by meaning is everything she does. Young and sweet, determined and powerful, we give her a choice-- a time to cry, or a time to rejoice_?"

Paris looked taken aback, but just as much relieved. "Rejoice, sure. I'll go with that."  
The Archeohauge trap did something strange, though. The ground began to shake and suddenly fell out beneath them. There were several screams as they all careened downward, spiraling into nothingness. Before anyone could call anything over the rushing winds, however, they landed softly in a white room, but not at all like the one in Elderland. This one had padded walls. There was a younger Chris there, maybe twelve, and arguing heatedly with a man in a white uniform.

This was it for all Chris' esteem in the eyes of his team. They burst out laughing over the fact that their 'leader' had been committed into a mental hospital, and Chris' shoulders sagged. "I thought this was supposed to be a reason for Paris to rejoice," he groaned, unaware of the fact that Paris was smiling at the scene playing out before them.

"Get out!" Chris' young self yelled at the man. "I'm not crazy, so just leave me alone!"

"Not crazy?" repeated the man as though the notion of the boy not being crazy was crazy itself. The man took a remote-like device out of his pocket and hit a button. A TV screen appeared in the pads of the wall. He hit another button and an image of the twelve year old came on, showing Chris sitting in the corner of the room, staring into space. He hit another button but nothing happened to the image except the time in the bottom of the screen began to speed past lightening fast. "Tell me, Christopher, do you know any other kids your age that can stay that still for fifteen hours straight?"

The twelve year old gave him a look of pronounced hatred. "Don't. Call. Me. By. That. Name. And what does it matter that I'm not hyperactive? Does that automatically make me a psycho?" When the man gave him a look that clearly said 'yes', Chris flung the door of his soft room open, and yelled, "Okay, get out! Get out, NOW!"

The floor fell out from beneath them, yet again, but this time there was laughter heard instead of screaming. "You were registered insane!" snorted Joden. "Gawd, this is precious!" As they leveled out again, the sixteen year old boy crossed his arms, trying furiously to hold back a comment he knew Paris would kill him for saying.

They were in Paris' living room again, but it was obviously some years later. Chris and Paris were both about ten, and they were decorating a Christmas tree. Paris' mother and father were talking in the kitchen while keeping an eye on the two in the other room. "Chris, could you hand me that purple ornament?" Paris asked from on top of a chair, moving a branch to see her friend. Chris, who was trying to untangle lights at the table in front of the tree, glanced around, found the one she meant, and leaned forward to hand it to her. However, as his side touched the table, he let out a muffled cry of pain, his fingers releasing the metal ornament. At once, there were several voices asking what was wrong, but Chris quickly reassured them, albeit in a slightly shaky voice, "Nothing, I just didn't think the table was that close."

The two adults shared a look. "Paris, sweetheart," said Mr. Whitmire, coming to help her down from the chair. "Come with me to find the angel topper." When it looked as though Paris would object, he added, "Come on. Chris and Mom need to talk about something without us eavesdropping on them."

The floor fell out again. "Think this thing is going haywire?" asked Paige, watching the darkness flying past them bemusedly. The last thing they had seen... now that they knew the boy's history, they had no trouble identifying why he'd been hurt by the table touching him. Paige tried to wiggle her feet in the dark void they were falling through and found that there really was nothing beneath them. She stifled a small scream of alarm. Somehow she'd just thought it was an illusion and they were still in the wide tunnel.

"Definitely a possibility," replied Duncan nonchalantly. "But you'd think we'd be seeing random flashes about random people, wouldn't you? These seem to focus on Chris."

"Even though it was Paris' turn to be picked on," said Paris, speaking casually in third person. "Chris, did my parents find out about your situation before I did?"

"Um... that's an interesting question," said Chris with a hint of guilt. "Well... you actually figured it out several times before I finally stopped erasing your memory. But they suspected it before you 'officially' found out."

"You erased my memory?" Paris shrieked, her usual serene composure abandoned. "What the heck for? Did you think I wouldn't understand or something? And when were you planning to tell me you were doing that to my head?"

Chris rolled his eyes in the dark. "No comment-- but just for the record, you would have, too, if you were in my place."

"Look! The perfect friends do actually argue!" exclaimed Andrщ. They leveled out again, and the scene became brighter, allowing them to see Chris and Paris both doing the 'speaking volumes with eyes only' thing. Paris cocked her head to the side for a moment, never breaking eye contact.

"Show me," she said after another moment. Chris cocked his head to the side likewise.

"Be amused at my whacked-up childhood," he said apathetically to the team, meaning to direct their attention to whatever scene they were at now, and away from him and Paris. The last glimpse Phoebe saw of the two before she turned away was of Chris gently placing two fingers on each of her temples, locking their eyes intently. Her last thought on that matter was simply envious, _darn that's a cool power._

The scene before them was of a school, and they were standing in the parking lot. It was deserted, until a fairly new looking SUV pulled up. It had barely even stopped before a thirteen year old Chris fell out-- or was thrown out-- of the vehicle and landed on the asphalt. A woman's voice screamed something that didn't sound very nice at the boy before she slammed his door shut again. "YES, MOTHER DEAREST!" Chris shouted back at the top of his lungs, seemingly having a difficult time keeping a straight face.

The woman screamed something about him not using that tone of voice, him paying for it, with a long stream of swearwords, threats, and insults spliced in. "WHATEVER YOU SAY, MOMMY!" Chris yelled back, now suppressing obvious mirth. He had to roll out of the way of the rear tire, however, as his mother screeched out of the parking lot, barely missing running over her son. Chris snorted, and the ones watching became aware of a thirteen year old Paris walking toward him, immersed within the pages of a book.

"Why do you have to provoke her?" she asked distractedly, giving him a hand up. "You know she isn't kidding when she says she's going to make you pay."

The other young teen shrugged with a short laugh. "I think I have a death wish."

Paris' young self briefly lowered her book to examine her friend. "That's not a good thing, Chris," she said, as though speaking to a naяve two year old. "Do I need to call your psychiatrist?" The boy glared.

"Good Lord," snorted the sixteen year old Paris, abruptly bringing the company's attention back to the two older teens. Paris looked surprised and entertained, while Chris looked exasperated and embarrassed. "Yes, I would have erased my memory if I was you, too. I mean, my God..."

Chris looked mock affronted. "Hey! He's my God, too, you know!"

The ground beneath their feet crumbled away, catching a few by surprise. After a moment for them to catch their breath, Joden stated matter-of-factly, "Your mother was a bitch."

Chris snorted. "You don't have to tell me-- I figured that out all on my own."

They landed back in the tunnel of the Archeohauge, the spell runes nowhere in sight. The torches burned dimmer. Phoebe glanced at her family to see how they had taken the latest information. Not that they didn't already know, but to actually hear her screaming such violent threats and graphic swearwords... they might take it a little more seriously. Piper did look troubled-- she was imagining throwing her precious child Wyatt out of the jeep like that, and that thought alone was making her eyes tear up. But Paige, who was already aware of such serious problems existing, did what she had taught herself to do when she had been a social worker. She had treated the scene as a moment from the job and had separated her personal life from hers at work, not even realizing it. She was already bantering with Joden and Paris again. Leo, though, was a different story. He was gazing at Chris intently, something silent and unprecedented going on behind his stormy grey eyes.

If Chris could feel himself being watched so meticulously, he definitely knew how to hide it. He only stared at the ground in front of his feet, lost in thought. Whatever he was thinking, though, Phoebe had no idea. Even at this age he could block himself from her power. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, as someone shimmered in behind her.

* * *

**Previously: **  
The thirteen year old Bianca screamed angrily, "That is so freaking it! I am so going to go call your parents and tell them you were using magic!" 

13 Chris' face drench of all color, making the various bruises stand out more prominently than ever.

He stopped trying to vanquish her. "You wouldn't dare..."

"Oh, so I was right!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "You aren't allowed to use magic! Oh yeah! I knew it!"

The boy's mouth fell open. "You b! You can't go inferring stuff like that and expect me to be able to see the difference! That's just-- just--"

"Evil?" She taunted, and, with one last sneer, shimmered out.

**And:**  
The adult Bianca laughed malevolently. "You may scorn me now, Christopher, but you won't be when you return home tonight. You might actually be out with--- what was the excuse your mother used to give the school?--- schizophrenic shock, for a week... or maybe even two, if dear mummy's in a good enough mood."

**Now-- Our Two Adults In The Weird Bubble Outside Of Time:  
**Bianca smiled, something that was making Chris sick to his stomach now that he knew she didn't want to. "No," she smirked. "But Wyatt does."

Chris' face did something strange. Once he could speak, he said in a soft voice, "Wyatt's coming?" His fiancщe nodded, still smiling, yet Chris could see the way her eyes were flickering with uncertainty. Something passed between the two that would be difficult to explain, but, in that moment, they came to an unusual sort of agreement.

If Wyatt was planning to be there, as far as they knew, he could be watching them even as they came to this resolve. So they had to make the performance believable. Bianca flung her gaze back to the pool that showed what the Charmed Ones were doing and sneered as his young self read the spell "_Wisdom states life without family is for naught. Mother and sister gone, but father and brothers are not. Yet never content were you. So what then did you go through?_"

"What did you go through?" repeated Bianca, scoffing. "Come on, I was only thirteen when I found out. It's not that hard to figure out."

"It may be," Chris shot back. "You only figured it out because your future self showed you. 'Cause you see, I remember when you admitted it two years ago."

What he didn't add was exactly what they were both thinking. Her seeing what she had caused him was the ultimate factor that had made her stop hunting innocent witches and mortals. It had made her realize what kind of people she had been working with, and she had made the switch, only taking special demon-hunting jobs from the Elders and other good sources. Hunting was in her blood, and no one had ever tried to deny her that.

"Well, you know what?" she retorted. "Since I'm in _such_ a good mood, I think I'm going to go show my past self exactly what she did to you, telling your dear mommy about you doing magic."

"You wouldn't dare," spat Chris. Bianca simply smirked and summoned a pool. It showed herself as a thirteen year old, and she was sitting in front of the desk of a man-- a client.

"So," drawled the man, "how is the case going? Is the youngest Halliwell dead, yet?"

"Not yet," returned the young Bianca with a cruel smile. "But I am sure I have him weakened enough to take his life at any moment."

The adult Bianca smiled the same cruel smile and shimmered out... and straight into the time period in question. Chris swore, sounding not at all staged. "I thought she didn't know how to get out of this damn bubble," he grumbled.

"I let her," said a deep and malevolent voice. Chris sighed in resignation and didn't even turn around.

"Hello, Wyatt."

* * *

Without thinking, Phoebe spin kicked the person, and who should she see go flying backwards as she turned around but a sixteen year old Bianca. Though Paris was still by far more beautiful, Bianca had blossomed since they had seen her at thirteen. She was taller, her hair was dyed blonde and black, and she had picked out clothes that brought out her better features. She now wore heavy eye make-up and dark lipstick, much in contrast to Paris' natural approach to cosmetics. "Geez, woman, hold your fire," Bianca snapped grumpily. "I'm on your side, remem... oh, you're not on FU1..." 

"What do you want?" asked Paris, giving her a hand up and giving Phoebe a soothing sort of look.

"Just came to tell Chrissy here there was another attempt to overthrow the base using the famous Volley Rampage tactic. The other leaders require your _assistance_," Bianca sneered. Chris threw her a look that would have frozen Hell over if it had been directed downward. They obviously weren't on good terms with one another.

"Can't _you_ help them? It doesn't look as though you've got anything better to do if you're playing obedient little messenger girl," he returned icily. Not one person present could have missed the venom in his voice.

"You two scare me when you're together," stated Andrщ, looking between them.

"Past history?"

"You could say that," said Bianca, giving Chris a smile that sent chills down Phoebe's spin. Chris met her smile with a glare, remaining silent. Seeing that he wasn't going to speak, Bianca continued, "I was sent to assassinate him a few years ago. Didn't exactly do that... but it took me forever to find him in the first place. I was looking for a thirteen year old who was the son of a rather famous couple-- he looked like he was the ten year old son of a violent drunk."

"Well, if you had done your research like a good assassin should, nothing would have come as a surprise," Chris returned in an even, although cold, voice.

Bianca shot him a very rude hand gesture. Chris gave her an unreadable look and said sarcastically, "I'm quaking where I stand. I mean, it's not like anyone's ever given me the finger before. Really. You're going to have to step it up a notch, _sweetheart_."

Before Bianca could make a suitable retort, Joden quickly intervened. "Thanks for the offer, Bianca, but Chris is kind of busy right now-- he's just tripped another booby trap."

"I have?"

"Yup," said Joden, and pushed the boy backwards. It hadn't been enough to knock him over, but he hit the ground anyway as his foot snagged the hole. Chris threw him a narrow look.

"We're never going to make the deadline if this keeps up," he said crossly. With a sigh, he got a hold of his temper, and read the runes. Bianca wasn't even noticed as she watched her once-target with interest. "_Quite some trouble has caused she, but what kind of things have taken place in your history?_ Oh... damn..."

"I would say so," said Duncan indifferently. Suddenly he said in a venomously sweet voice so unexpected coming from him, "Do you know who came and paid me a visit today, Christopher?"

Chris groaned and held his head in his hands. "Not again..."

Paris pulled his hand into hers comfortingly. "If I start spouting your mother's lines, I give you permission to slap me." Chris laughed slightly but shook his head, not meeting her eyes.

"Well," said Paige, speaking Chris' lines, "I think the mailman's got a thing for you, but something tells me that's not it..."

There was a resounding SMACK in the tunnel and Chris fell to the ground as though struck. He made a very unenthusiastic face. "This is going to be fun..."

"Don't be a smartass," snarled Andrщ dangerously. "It doesn't suit your position. I was visited by a remarkable young lady by the name of Bianca. And do you know what she said to me?"

Phoebe said somewhat capriciously, "No, I possess no psychic abilities, ma'am." There was another crack and Chris was thrown into the tunnel wall before falling back to the ground.

"Is there anyway we can block the hits before they meet you?" asked Piper, as Paris gave him a hand up. "I mean, you can predict them before they happen, can't you?"

"Does 'at the end of every sentence' count?" he asked rhetorically. "Besides that, intangibility doesn't work, and I doubt I have any other power that could."

"Shield?" suggested Phoebe, wishing it would hit whoever had spoken the lines and not him every time. She could take one blow easily, but she knew it would add up if he took them all himself. He shrugged, lost in thought. She knew this wasn't a memory he wanted to witness again. She briefly wondered why the place was picking on him.

"_You don't_?" screamed Paris, and Chris flicked his shield up, but hit the ground behind it anyway. "So how often do you use magic behind my back if you can't pick out one person who saw you?" Chris was slammed sideways into the wall. "You f---ing little sh--! How many times have I warned you? How many times have I told you, you would pay? --WELL?" Chris was sent hurtling several feet down the tunnel before hitting nothing, that had apparently been something in the memory, and falling forward. She demanded an answer again.

"I'm sorry! I don't know any other way to fight a witch who's willing to use her powers!" Joden said in an exasperated voice. Chris was slammed yet again into the wall, but this time a force held him there. He grasped at his throat, but all that was there was air. His mother was obviously choking him.

"You didn't answer my question," said Leo in a dangerously soft voice. "I said-- how many times?"

Piper's hands went to a spot just in front of her throat, but she could only make a small choking noise. At last, Chris fell forward onto all fours, gasping for breath. "More than enough, ma'am," Piper panted without Chris' usual cockiness. Had he already had enough? Or was it just a means to placate the homicidal anger? If that was the case, it didn't work.

"Then what the hell are you finding hard about it?" yelled Andrщ and Chris was flipped, or kicked, onto his back. "You just don't get it, do you, you demented little freak? YOU- CANNOT- USE- MAGIC! Do I need to get your father for a repeat from when you were seven?" Chris was thrown up against the wall again, but not choked.

"N-no!" stammered Duncan quickly. "Please, no! I swear I won't do it again--" Chris was struck across the face.

"That's what you say every time, but it never works, does it?" growled Paige.

"But nobody else can find out!" protested Piper desperately. "No one else was there and I changed what the camera saw so--"

"So nothing," said Phoebe dangerously. Out of nowhere, a knife appeared at Chris throat. He made a disbelieving face.

"Oh, hell no. You've got to be kidding me," he said watching the knife. He tried to grab the handle but his hand went straight through it. His finger did bleed, however, when he poked the tip.

"You will be out from school," continued Phoebe just as softly, "for two weeks, with schizophrenic shock. Is that in any way unclear?"

Andrщ looked devastated. "But I've just gotten out! Please, don't make me go back down there--" The knife at Chris' throat cut a small slit, just enough to draw blood. The sixteen year old didn't even wince, but it was enough to silence his thirteen year old self... as far as the 'actors' knew, anyway. They had no idea what the look in his mother's eyes had suggested; they didn't have her so close they could feel her calm breathing on their faces. They didn't know what she was capable of doing. Phoebe repeated the question of clarity again, and Paris said softly, eyes cast downward in complete dejection,

"Yes, ma'am."

The knife faded. The troupe gradually came out of the spell. "Are you okay?" Paris asked softly, looking at the cut on Chris' neck. His eyes, however, had hardened as they fell upon someone else in the tunnel.

**

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A/N: Thanx for all the reviews, and sorry for the delay. Wow, this story is getting long... anyway, as long as I have reviewers, I'll keep writing :hint hint: ****

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Sparkling Cherries: Don't feel bad-- I read half of the first (Pullman) book but had to put it down for almost a year before I decided I cared enough to see how it ended. Then I read the rest of the trilogy! lol. And I guess that's why Duncan doesn't use that accent, other than just to 'fit in' in America, if there is such a thing. **

**Michal: **Chris spoke the language of the Elders, since he was with them during the years he learned to speak. (I'd imagine it would be a very pretty language, since they are basically the essence of good and goodpretty in my shallow little mind:))


	18. The Cold end of Heat

**Disclaimer: Out of ten characters, I own four. The other six don't belong to me. Guess which they are.**

* * *

Paris turned to see that Bianca hadn't moved from the place she'd been standing before the spell took hold. 

"What happened to your leaving?" Chris asked coldly, not sparing her feelings a second thought.

Bianca opened her mouth, eyes slightly glossier than normal, yet no words came out. She looked like she was close to tears.

Everyone did. Phoebe was staring into the air as though it held all the answers to why that child had had to go through such treatment. Paige was watching the ground, thoughts awkwardly silent. Leo was holding Piper in his arms as she cried softly. The rest of the team was affected in similar ways.

After a length, Andre asked the question which most were wondering about. "What did she mean 'schizophrenic shock'? There's no such thing... medically..."

From the look Chris gave Andre, Paris felt it was her place to say gently, "You don't have to tell them anything, Chris. I know... I know why it took you three years to tell me, so you don't have to say anything to anyone else. They'll understand."

"They threw him in the cellar," whispered Bianca, looking dazed. Tears were now spilling down her cheeks as she remembered what her future self had shown her. What had changed her. The team, the Charmed Ones, and Leo stared at her, attempting to process her claims. "His mother locked it magically, binding it so that he couldn't orb out, and no one gave him anything to eat for days and days... and his parents would come down and beat him, no matter if he was conscious or not... they didn't care that he was starving, or... or freezing, or-"

"That's enough," said Chris coldly, sharply. Phoebe directed her watery eyes toward him, sensing how he had been completely caught off guard. His face was stony-- cold, hard, and decidedly unfeeling.

Bianca dropped her gaze to the ground, something taking place within her that was left unsaid. It was Paige that spoke, however, and ardently. "Geez, and all you did was use magic? How could they do that? Magic is in your blood, or else you wouldn't be a witch in the first place! Magic is who you are! How could they punish you for it? Especially since they used it themselves! And like _that! _That's just-- just--"

"Evil," whispered Bianca. There were only a few who understood how ironic that one word was, coming from her. She took a shuddering breath and looked up, directly into Chris' eyes. "Do you... do you remember when we were thirteen, and my future self came?"

"The one with the brown hair, tight black leather-- extremely self-satisfied?" responded Chris emotionlessly. When Bianca nodded listlessly, he finished, "Nope, can't seem to recall her."

Choosing to look past the toneless sarcasm, Bianca said in a shaking voice, "Well, um... a week later, when I went to see my, um... client... she came back and... she... she took me to where you were... and she showed me what I... what I had done."

"Wait-- you saw that?" said Chris in mild alarm.

Bianca nodded, looking back to the ground. "Yeah... and it changed me... I canceled the deal to kill you and left the Underworld. Then, two years later, the Elders recommended me to the Resistance, and, well, here I am."

Chris gave her a strange, almost comical look. "Gee, glad I could help."

"Okay, not that hearing the history between you two isn't interesting," began Duncan, "but I think we made the wall angry."

When everyone looked around in confusion, Duncan indicated the glowing red walls they hadn't even noticed. Paris frowned and placed her hand on the wall, attempting to get a read. She instantly jumped back.

"Yeah-- I think angry would be an understatement!" she exclaimed. "Oh God, it is _livid!_"

"What? What'd we do?" asked Andre instantly.

"We--" began Paris but stopped. A far off expression crossed her features. They all watched her as she seemed taken out of the moment, almost as though thrown in a long premonition. She suddenly turned to Joden, looking confused and still in her own world. "_Why?_"

Joden looked just as lost as she did. "Why what?"

Chris looked between them. He turned his eyes on Paris and seemed to concentrate, searching for the answer using some extended branch of empathy. After a second, her eyes snapped back to reality and she and Chris yelled in unison, "LOOK OUT!"

The furious wall had crumbled in on itself out of spite, and everyone dove out of the way. Giant chunks of stone were flying everywhere, leaving the bewildered team to scatter backwards. "Chris, shield!" Paige cried out.

Chris' eyes went wide. "Oh yeah!" he said, seeming to remember for the first time that he had magic. He threw out his hand and a scarlet shield, like Wyatt's blue one, materialized around them.

Piper rounded on the boy, shaken, her thoughts on her little blonde son. "_Oh yeah_?" she echoed. "_OH YEAH?_ We nearly die and all you can say is _oh yeah?_! God, it's not as if we don't have anything to live for or anything! I mean, none of us can possibly have a job or a family or--"

"Geez, I'm sorry, ok?" he retorted, rolling his eyes. "Magic just isn't my first reaction anymore. But nobody's hurt, so -- _what the hell is that?_"

"What?" came several voices as they all spun to see what he was talking about. Where the wall had collapsed was an opening, or archway. It was completely dark inside-- save for the ten glowing figures that were slowly advancing through the fallen debris, that is.

Chris let the shield down. The figures made their way into the glow of the torchlight, revealing themselves to be... _them_.

There was another Piper, another Phoebe, Paige, Leo, Chris, Paris, Duncan, Joden, Andre, and Bianca, all wearing all black. It was obvious they were evil...

"No, we're not evil," said the black-garbed Leo, as if in response to all their thoughts. He smiled maliciously. "We _are_ you... just the sides of you that you don't let come out... or, often, anyway."

The alternate egos smiled cruelly, evil Paige cracking her knuckles. The good ones shared looks of crestfallenness. Chris audibly groaned, and Bianca laughed unconcernedly, clapping him on the shoulder. "I don't envy you, man." She wasn't the same as she was before. She was back to picking on him.

Chris threw her a look. "Oh, just shut up." After glaring a second more, he sighed. "Alright," said Chris, and they suddenly remembered he was the leader of the team by the tone of his voice. "If these people really are us, then they'll know all your moves and all your principles. They will probably be hard to beat, so whoever vanquishes or knocks out their match first, help someone who looks like they're struggling."

There was a heavy silence.

"Everyone ready?" asked Chris, looking falsely cheerful. At their nods, he smiled in a cynical fashion. "Okay. Guns out or not?"

"No guns," said Chris' or his alter ego. The bad boy snapped his fingers and all the guns vanished. Joden moved slightly... "Guns are impersonal cheap shots that take all the humanity out of a fair fight. Isn't that right, Chrissy?" He asked his good half in mock innocence.

"Were you eavesdropping on us?" Chris demanded of his evil-like self in mock scandalized tones. When his self didn't answer, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's get this over with. Break!"

He and his companions separated, each pairing off with his or her own self. Then the fight started.

Phoebe and her clone were instantly at each others throats, marshal arts, levitation and all. Piper and herself were trying to blow each other up, but finding themselves immune to their own power. Leo and neoLeo were at each other, using true world war two fighting tactics. Paige was orbing rocks at herself, as was her twin. The vampires were flying, spitting, and biting; Joden and Andre were brawling with their own halves; and Paris and hers were having something resembling a staring contest. Bianca and Bianca were throwing daggers. Chris on the other hand...

His dark side cocked his head. "What do you say we take this in the other room?"

Chris didn't reply, but both flamed into the newly formed massive cavern. Then the duel started. The evil half had no self-induced limitations and was immediately hitting his good half with all kinds of flashes of light, telekinesis, explosive powers, and more. Chris blocked the attacks with his shield, telekinesis, and moved through the spells with intangibility. Gradually he realized how hopeless this was starting to look... his other ego had _way _more powers and magical influence. And all Chris had time to do was defend himself. Gritting his teeth, he pushed outward with his telekinesis and threw more power into it than he ever had been forced to before. All of the other's magic was thrown away from him. But Chris didn't have the strength to use that much power for long... In no time the evil one was at his throat again.

Phoebe didn't know how long it was before she had the upper hand against her double, but as soon as she did, she struck out with sideways levitation and drop kicked her self into the wall. The evil half was knocked unconscious. Phoebe spun around to see what was happening to the others.

Piper had already managed to completely vanquish her half, and Leo was just getting up from knocking out his opponent. Paige had her alternate ego in a headlock, and screamed to Piper, "A little help... if you don't mind!"

Piper flicked her fingers and evil Paige exploded. Paige sighed in relief and exhaustion. Joden came and sat down beside her, sporting a bloody lip but otherwise unharmed. He sighed as well. They turned to see Duncan stepping across his other self's limp body, scarlet eyes swirling back into black, Andre was already bandaging a wound, and Paris was still locked in a staring contest. Bianca had finished first and was idly watching a torch light flicker about.

"Want some help?" called Joden to his girlfriend, but suddenly the wind picked up in the room, the focus on the two Paris-es.

The others gasped, emotions, random panicky thoughts, and horrible scenarios coursing through the air around them, letting the humans, witches, whitelighter, and vampire feel and sense echoes of them. The wind picked up even more, whipping both Paris-es' raven black hair wildly about. The good Paris leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in concentration, and without warning, her evil counterpart screamed out in agony. The evil one vanished in a pick up of wind. The others cheered.

"How did you do that?" asked Phoebe, thinking the feeling had reminded her of when she used her empathy.

Paris glanced up, seemingly worn out. "Wha--? Oh. Um, Chris does it with empathy sometimes and taught me how to do it with Reading. It's just a simple little trick... that takes _a lot _of energy."

"Speaking of, where is Chris?" asked Duncan, looking around. The flying lights and sounds of battle coming from within the archway caught their attention. Sharing a look, they took off to see what was going on.

What they found was surprising. "Damn, Chris," said Joden under his breath, watching the alter ego using moves and magic completely unprecedented. "Who knew the kid was suppressing that much power?"

No one answered. Paris, without a word, sprinted over to where Chris' pack had been thrown during the fight. She quickly rummaged through the front and found what she was looking for. She flicked the lighter on and screamed, "CHRIS!"

Chris glanced up from blocking the furious attacks with his shield and relief flooded his face. "_Yes!_ You are a Godsend, Paris!" He extended a hand and took the flame, expanding it as he brought it to him. Without warning he swished an arm and fire overtook the entire center of the cavern where they were fighting, the force of the heat knocking back his companions. For a moment they could see nothing through the intense blaze, when suddenly steam overtook the cavern.

It billowed back enough to reveal both Chris-es standing yards away from each other, both with their arms extended and each wielding a power. Chris had flames roaring around him and into the center where they clashed with the evil-ish Chris'... ice.

"Chris has the power of ice?" said Leo, confused. "I thought fire deemers only had the--"

"Hot end of heat?" finished Paris, watching the battle intently. "Yeah, because fire comes with embracing your good nature, ice comes with embracing your evil... therefore, Chris doesn't have as much experience with ice."

"That's complicated," voiced Paige, an unexcited expression on her face. Paris snorted.

When the duelers realized this approach seemed to be getting nowhere, they abruptly shut off their powers and glared at each other. After a moment, without warning, they were at it again, using a different strategy. Several minutes went by, neither of the two gaining or losing anything. Though their Chris wasn't displaying as many powers as the other Chris, he seemed able to hold his own, anyway.

More minutes went by. Joden checked his watched and glanced back towards the tunnel. The Charmed Ones and Andrщ made themselves comfortable on the ground and watched the lightening fast fight with intrigued expressions. _So Prue wasn't kidding_, Piper mused. _He does have some pretty serious powers_. _But why won't he use them?_

It felt like an hour had passed. No one had the option of taking over for him as they had discussed, because they all knew they'd be dead in seconds. But instead of becoming more worried, Paris seemed to be getting irritated or exasperated, one. At last, after no one could take it anymore, she yelled, "Alright Chris! Just vanquish his butt already!"

"What do you think--" duck, doge, throw, duck, "I've been trying to--" similar series of movements and magical counters, "do?"

"Chris, you can beat him," she said, somewhat softer. Something seemed to pass between them that wasn't being spoken, even though they had no eye contact and could barely even hear each other.

"Paris, no! I can't do that now! I might not be able to switch back and ya'll are stuck in the same room--"

"Chris, just freeze his ass into oblivion!" Paris screamed, surprising everyone present.

"Paris!" said a shocked Joden. "You swore!" She threw him a look that said 'now is not the time'. He was silenced easily.

Vaguely, they could make out his other half saying something, taunting him. For a second, the entire fight froze on both ends. The evil-ish Chris looked smug and their Chris looked winded. "You-- Paris-- fine, I'll freaking do it!"

"Do what?" asked Paige, but only Paris seemed to know the answer, and she was clearly distracted.

Chris' eyes suddenly began to swirl with a blackness... a blackness like the Source's. Time stood on edge. The transformation in his eyes was complete-- they _were_ eyes of the Source. Without a word, he threw out his hands and his counterpart was engulfed in sheets and sheets of black colored ice. The winds roared as the other struggled against being frozen and fire whipped the cavern. Lightening flashed across the high ceiling. The ground shook violently. There was a moment of blinding scarlet light and wave of heat, and then there was darkness. Silence.

Nothing happened... until... Paris flicked the lighter on again, and the entire cavern lit up, revealing their Chris on his knees. He was breathing labouredly, eyes screwed up in pain. The other Chris was a melted puddle on the floor. Paris was at Chris' side in an instant. "Come on, Chris, you can do this. Come on, talk to me."

"I told you?" he choked, doubled over. "I might not... be able to switch... back." He looked up at her suddenly, smiling brightly. "I lied."

Paris gaped at him for a moment before smacking his arm. "You-- you--" she struggled for an insult good enough to express her anger, but coming up with only, "You jerk! You know you scared the hell out of me? Damn, Chris!"

Chris burst out laughing. "Paris! _Watch _your _mouth_, girl! Geez...!"

Paris gave him a death look. "Don't _you_ tell me to watch my mouth! You've been a sailor since you were ten!" Chris just continued laughing. The two got up at length and came back to their companions.

Joden looked Chris up and down. "You know, you've got some serious ass-kicking power. What's with the suppressing it complex?"

Chris laughed. "Suppressing it? How do you think I finally got rid of the Titans yesterday?" Joden looked contemplative. Chris ignored this, and looked to the others. "Everyone okay? Any broken bones, internal bleeding, etc. etc.?"

Andre laughed. "Gee, thanks for being so concerned. But nah, we're fine. We can kick our own butts pretty easily."

Chris grinned. "Well, that's good news."

"Chris!" scolded Phoebe, getting a somewhat questionable vibe from him and laughing. "I felt that!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Empaths..." he shook his head.

"You're an empath, too, you know," Paris reminded him, rolling her eyes. Chris smiled innocently.

"Why, whatever would make you say that? It couldn't be because I can feel it every time Bianca is checking out my ass, _and would you stop that?_" he added, glaring at the offending girl. Bianca blushed brightly and everyone else burst out laughing.

Phoebe, Paige, and Piper found it particularly funny as they knew the two would be engaged. They now seriously doubted whether it would go on to marriage, however, due to their current situation... but it was funny anyway.

They were pulled from their amusement, though, as the wall in front of them began glowing golden. The laughing stopped abruptly. The glowing faded away, leaving an opening in the wall. The team, Charmed Ones, and Leo shared looks, and, as one, moved towards the new door.

When they entered, they knew at once their quest was over.

The walls were lined with all the artifacts they could have ever imagined. Some were small with little spinning pendulums, some emitted puffs of multi-colored smoke, some simply shined and looked pretty.

"Wow," breathed Paige with a slight laugh. "I... think we found it."

Chris, who stood beside Paris, had been feeling strange emotions wavering from the girl ever since she had zoned out. Now those reached an all time high. He looked at her, querying. It didn't feel right. It felt like what he sensed from her every time she Read something she didn't like, but wouldn't ever speak of aloud. He knew she had Read something disturbing, but his instincts were telling him to trust her. He was still uneasy, though.

"Paris?"

"Chris," Paris said softly. Her eyes searched his in a way they'd never done before and he instantly knew something was very wrong. She cut him off before he could begin. "Chris, please. Don't fight this. You can't fight it, not this time." He opened his mouth again, but she put her finger over it, hushing him. Gently, she whispered, "Please." and walked away. No one had noticed their exchange. Casually, she walked over to an object and picked it up. "What do you think this is?" she asked nobody particular.

Joden completely stopped. Then he pulled out a hand gun.

Two thoughts raced through everyone's minds: 1_. How does he still have a gun_, and 2. _Oh shit, the green pins must be here!_ And sure enough, there were shimmers of demons all around them. But...

Joden had raised the gun within a second, whirled around, and had it pointed straight at Paris' forehead. Before anyone could react, he had pulled the trigger... and shimmered out.

As though in slow motion, Paris' body began to fall backwards... her indigo blue eyes open... but the spark of knowledge and understanding, the spark of life... it was gone.

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**A/n: Hey, wonderful readers! Thank you, all the seven people who reviewed! At least _you_ make me feel like my story has potential... _Please_ review, people! Even if it is one or two words, it won't kill you (trust me, I know. I review other stories I read) and it means a lot to the author, especially when they've held out-- what-- 19 chapters? So, please, don't let me down.**


	19. The Price

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. But I do own this computer I'm typing on… I should name this computer… something classy… hmm... **

… **ah well, nothing's coming to mind, so on with the story!**

_

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The adult Bianca smiled the same cruel smile and shimmered out… and straight into the time period in question. Chris swore, sounding not at all staged._

_"I thought she didn't know how to get out of this damn bubble," he grumbled.  
_

_"I let her," said a deep and malevolent voice. Chris sighed and didn't even turn around.  
_

_"Hello, Wyatt."_

"Chris," returned the voice, nonchalant. "That wasn't nice, banishing me to the Gobi desert."

"That wasn't nice, vanquishing my fiancée and all," Chris replied in the same calm, collected voice. "And you didn't have to resurrect her as evil."

"Come on," said Wyatt coldly, and Chris could tell his eyes had turned hard. But he didn't shiver, as he would have when he was sixteen. He didn't even appear phased. "You know that girl never stays on the side she was born… or returned to."

"Could have fooled me," Chris responded bitterly. They didn't even know what time period they were looking into, but it didn't matter. They weren't looking at anything… they were just not looking at each other… Neither of them wanted to remember that they had chosen opposite sides of the war… It would only cause the pain of that betrayal so many years ago to return…

Chris could feel Wyatt look away from the designated staring spot to a new one as he said quietly, "It wasn't so many years ago. Just three."

Chris' eyes wandered to the ground. "Not so long? Just four years ago I was helping you with your calculus homework and you were trying to convince Monica 'it was a mistake'. You didn't know the dude you kicked off the basketball team was her brother…"

Without looking up, Chris knew Wyatt was smiling when he asked, "You still remember that?"

Chris' eyes rose to Wyatt's face, and for a moment their was unexplainable anger in the glamoured blue spheres. "Of course I remember," he said with a quiet passion. "Do you know what it's like, Wyatt? Do you know what it's like not to have everything, now? Or has nothing really changed since I left?"

Wyatt didn't respond, and for some reason Chris felt the anger rising in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He couldn't stop the words from flying out of his mouth, that which he'd been wanting to scream for so very long. "Do you know what it's like, now? Do you? To not have anything? Any reason to wake up in the morning? Do you know what it's like forcing yourself to anyway just to see if there's some chance that things'll get better, and then have that hope come back and slap you in the face? _Do you? _Gawd, Wyatt! How could I forget? Those damn memories were the only things that kept me going, because I knew that at one time it hadn't been so bad! Those damn memories were the only things that kept me believing it could be that way again! _How could I forget them?_"

Wyatt still didn't respond. He wasn't looking at Chris, or even in his direction. After a moment that seemed to be electrically charged with Chris' anger, he sighed and gazed up into his little brother's face with remorse… "Chris, this is what has to happen before it can get better. It's just… I wanted you on my side when it started. I had no idea you would be so… _different_ when you came back--"

"Me? Different?" repeated Chris with a harsh laugh. His eyes raked over his brother in scornful amazement at the statement. "Wyatt, before I left, you were good-- angry, but still good. When I came back you were evil-- who do you think changed, there?"

Wyatt threw his little brother a sidelong look with turquoise eyes. He had put aside the total blackness, like he would sometimes do when he spoke to his brother. Now those eyes only made the pain Chris felt more intense. The young one looked away. It was really Wyatt in there. His same Wyatt… just doing things Chris had never thought he'd do before. But it was still him…

Wyatt likewise looked away. This was going nowhere either of them wanted it to go… so his black eyes he had antiquated from the Source came back and the brothers did the dance they were beginning to know best. The steps of the fateful dance involved one Source of all Evil, and his arch nemesis, one leader of the Rebellion.

* * *

_Joden had raised the gun within a second, whirled around, and had it pointed straight at Paris' forehead. Before anyone could react, he had pulled the trigger... and shimmered out.  
As though in slow motion, Paris' body began to fall backwards... her indigo blue eyes open... but the spark of knowledge and understanding, the spark of life... it was gone._

Chris' reaction came too late. He rushed forward and managed to catch Paris' body before it hit the cold, hard ground, but his flash of violent telekinesis hit the wall behind where Joden had stood, missing the man by a fraction of a second. His mind was in turmoil, still not able to fully register what had just happened… but he didn't need to. He knew it without registering it.

Tears spilled down his cheeks as his knees gave in, still holding Paris in his arms. Things were happening around him, but he just couldn't handle dealing with anything else right now. All he saw, all he knew, was the lifeless body cradled in his arms. Her eyes… her eyes were still open. Staring straight at him. But she wasn't in there. She wasn't there anymore. She wasn't anywhere… the tears continued to fall… just as merciless as the one who had just shot his own girlfriend… Joden had shot Paris… the last thing Chris had left to hold on to; the last thing he had that was keeping him sane… it had been taken away. He couldn't do it. Not anymore. It was too much. Too much…

He didn't know what was happening but there was fighting, there was struggling… there were screams… people screaming in pain… people screaming his name… things… the devices they'd come to retrieve… were being smashed and shattered. Nothing was right… it wasn't right…

Paris was gone… no more of her laughter after his lame jokes… No more gentle blue eyes that always knew what he was going through… No more taking on the world just so he would be spared… No more unconditional support… No more late night TV and putting bologna on Damien's face while he slept… No one left, at least none who cared, who even knew his last name… There was nothing… no one… there was no one left… He couldn't handle it. His breaths were ragged as he clutched the body tightly, unable to stem the cascade of tears… unable to try. The last person left…

"Chris!" the screams were frantic now… hysterical. He couldn't do it… "_Chris! _God, Chris, _please_!" There was sobbing all around him. Nothing was making sense. He just couldn't do it. He wanted it to stop… Paris… he just… couldn't.

The screaming… breaking… crying… fear… pain… hatred… he was losing control of his empathy. He wasn't even meant to be an empath… it was so hard… and now Paris… Terror… desperation… panic… loss… grief… so much pain… and anger.

He just wanted it to stop. There was blood. From the shot. And it was pouring all down her face… her beautiful face… dripping into her still opened eyes… staining them forever scarlet… no… No. Not now. He couldn't handle it. Not ever. Not Paris… He wanted it to stop. It had to stop.

He felt the emotions building up inside his chest… the ones he'd always suppressed beginning to rumble, then roar into life. They were all mixing and multiplying… so rapidly… so intensely, sparing him none of the pain… the anguish… he just wanted it to stop… he wanted it to stop so badly…

The emotions were building pressure inside him… then they were erupting. "Stop," he whispered, his voice cracking with the raw anguish at first. But nothing happened. They were still screaming at him… screaming at him to help them… They were so… desperate… they weren't going to last long… they were being hurt… dying… and screaming at him to help… he was the only one who could help… but he couldn't. He couldn't… _handle_ it. An anger like he had never known began to flare to life inside his chest like a dragon, a dragon that roared and raged, rearing to life… rearing to strike. "STOP IT!" he yelled, more like a scream, so loud everyone was shocked into silence.

And in that moment, that tense moment of unadulterated solitude, he understood something. This was the climax. This was the culmination of all his years of abuse and torment at the hands of those he loved. Through the years Paris had acted as a container for all his built up grief and anger, who had shared his tears and troubles when they had become too much. It was this moment, when there was no one left on this Earth who shared his pain, that the pain overtook him.

Then he broke. Power-- raw, uncontrolled, unshaped power-- began radiating from him as he shook. He was no longer sobbing… just shaking. Then the barely visible power began coming off in waves. The floor vibrated. That's when they saw it in his eyes… he couldn't take any more.

The sixteen year old couldn't take it anymore… and he didn't have to.

The ground and walls were shaking violently, and the Charmed Ones and Leo felt as though the time remote had been activated again by the sudden hook and feeling of being jerked roughly backwards. Then, before they had even realized what had happened, they were on the ground, winded, and looking up at a confused Joden, who was pointing a gun into the air where Paris' face had been apparently only seconds before. Phoebe snapped her head around to find Paris gasp for breath, still held securely in Chris' arms.  
Time had reset… But how?

She didn't have time to dwell on the concept, for at that moment Joden had lowered the gun down to the two teenagers' level, and once more pulled the trigger.

There was a scream from beside Phoebe… either Andre or Paige, she couldn't tell. The bullet had mixed up the dust in the air, and she was waiting, holding her breath, for it to clear.

When it did, she saw an outcome only slightly different from the first.

Chris had pushed Paris out of the immediate path upon a lightening fast reflex, and on a just as fast reflex, threw out his hand and sent Joden flying into the wall, where he was knocked unconscious. Before the rest of the team could rush forward to assess the damage and situation, the demon assassins had once again shimmered in and had them occupied fighting for their lives.

Chris, still in shock, still shaking violently, leaned forward and fell on his knees. He crawled towards Paris' prostrate body and tried to suppressed a cry of pain and horror. She had been shot, again, but this time in the chest. His hands pressed down against the wound, hard, but he couldn't stop the bleeding. He could feel her heart beat grow fainter. He could feel the blood slowly begin to decrease…

He felt her heart stop.

"Paris, no. Paris," he moaned as the tears began to come back. He couldn't think… the sounds of battle now screamed at him from every direction. What-- had he reset time only to watch her die again? The tears began to fall. Andre had been killed last time fighting her assassin. So had one of the 'tagalongs'. Were they going to die again, too? He felt as if the walls were closing in on him… he couldn't… not again…  
But… a faint flicker of her eyelids… a small breath passing though her lips…

Paris was alive.

His hands shot forward and did the only thing he could think of. He didn't think about the consequences, he only thought of his friend. Chris forced the golden glow into his hands and forced the warmth to heal her… forced it to heal the only true friend he'd ever had. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose her again…

Paris gasped for the second time, her indigo blue eyes flew open, and Chris flung his arms around her, overwhelming relief.

Somewhat dazed, definitely perplexed, Paris returned the gesture halfway, still regaining her breath.  
But it was never enough when it came to Chris.

Out of nowhere, blue orb lights appeared and surrounded Chris, enveloping him completely. Paris fell back and stared at the spot he'd been only seconds before. Then it dawned on her. Her face paled. Asking the battling room at large, Paris whispered,  
"He healed me, didn't he?"

One wouldn't think such a comment could be heard over the clamor of desperate battle, but the Charmed Ones and Leo seemed to freeze, something clicking in the backs of all their minds. The four abandoned their fights with their own assassins and flocked to Leo, who immediately orbed them all Up There. When one had been cast down from grace, one couldn't use their healing power… without penalty.

What they found was a wide panel of Elders, all in their customary robes, formed in a half moon shape around a furious, teary Chris. The Elders were cold, their expressions stony. One particular Elder was speaking in tones of sedate authority, but his underlying anger was not far from the surface.

"Christopher, we have warned you again and again," he stated with suppressed heat. "And we wouldn't have to constantly add to your already overwhelming struggle if you would _just _pay the price without--"

"_Pay the price_?" interrupted Chris angrily. "_Pay the price? _I have already paid the price! I have already gone through freaking hell because of you, and now you want to make me 'pay the price' for trying to save the last thing that's keeping me sane? What the hell is your problem?"

"_Our_ problem?" snarled back a different Elder, making Phoebe take a step back. She'd never seen any of the Elders so angry before. "You, Christopher, are our problem! You are the cause of this entire war, yet you take no responsibility for any of your actions! And if it weren't for you, _heyana val antoi jza mehy_…" he continued to rave in enraged tones in the once beautiful, yet now stabbing language of the Elders.

Whatever the Elder was saying seemed to incite Chris even more, and soon the two were not far from screaming at each other across the designated 'trial room'. …And then they were.

"What're they yelling about?" whispered Paige, catching onto Phoebe's shoulder as the empath swooned from the intense anger in the room. Leo shook his head, a look of mingled confusion and puzzlement on his face.

"I understand what they're saying… just not… what they're talking about." He responded vaguely, still trying to listen.

The heat seemed to be rising even more, if that was possible. Phoebe was close to hyperventilating just trying to keep the emotions from coming out in the form of physical violence on her part, when suddenly Chris yelled in English,  
"Then I will fight the whole _hyantei _world if I have to! It is _NOT _a lost cause!"

"Yes, it is!" shouted the Elder, red in the face now. "If you hadn't tipped the balance in favor of evil in the first place, it might not be, though! Don't you get it? _This _is what you're paying for! You killed your own mother, giving evil the upper hand enough to attack us openly! You destroyed the Power of Three with her, paving the way for them even further! You have to pay for that! You _must _pay for that!"

Abruptly, Chris looked away, but not before they could see the tears glittering in his vivid green eyes. The Elders were momentarily taken aback, not having expected him to show any sign of vulnerability or defeat. For a fraction of a second there was silence, when Chris whispered, just barely audibly, "I already have." He suddenly looked up at them, swimming eyes blazing fiercely. "Do you think I wanted to kill her? Do you think I had any choice in the matter, whatsoever? I mean, what do you think h--"

"That's not the point!" boomed Odin in a stern voice. "That does not change what you did! You gave Evil the largest leg-up in history, while crippling our side critically! You cannot be allowed to get away with that! _Whahey normada innosite dywei si!_"

The look Chris gave Odin then… none present had ever seen it before. Then again, none had ever seen Chris during a moment of homicidal anger. "Odin, if you EVER try to hurt any of my friends again, I swear _before God _that I will kill you! You pathetic son of a _hyaway, nomasteq yakatah fryair_!" (--Leo's jaw dropped.)

Odin, along with the rest of the Elders, looked infuriated and flung out his arm. Chris was sent careening into the back wall, where he folded to the ground, but not before he threw out his own arm and sent Odin hurtling backwards. Odin was scarlet in the face and cast out his hands, and suddenly Chris' feet were knocked out from beneath him again, this time with an invisible force holding his arms behind his back. The Elder spoke something in the language and Chris very abruptly looked winded. Tears filled his eyes once again, but this time they were proof of the hurt the other's words had inflicted. Nothing more. His anger had vanished.

He stopped trying to fight the invisible bindings, and whispered, looking at Odin alone, "…How could you say that?"

While several Elders looked as though they didn't approve of what Odin had said, Odin himself portrayed not a flicker of guilt or regret.

"Christopher," said Odin in the voice of finality, "we have warned you about using your whitelighter powers after we cast you down from grace; and we have cursed you multiple times for disregarding those orders, but since it never seems to get through to you, we have come to a decision."

Chris merely continued to stare at him, the suppressed tears beginning to find their way down his cheeks. His hands, stained and dripping Paris' blood, were shaking so slightly.  
Odin waved an arm, Elder robes flurrying, and a darklighter's crossbow appeared in the crook of his arm. Free Style materialized a few yards away from Chris. For a moment, shocked confusion flashed across Chris' face, when suddenly comprehension slammed into him. He instantly clambered back to his feet, but it was already too late. The Elders, without any verbal signal, had come down from their lofty perches and were surrounding him, at least four holding him into place away from his zail.

"No!" Chris yelled, struggling wildly; the Elders wouldn't relent, however. "No! Don't touch him! No--!" His voice broke, though, as the Elders grabbed Free Style, and his entire body seized up in pain and shock. He wasn't breathing.

From the sidelines Phoebe screamed aloud, grasping her chest as she crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. Piper and Paige were in a state of chaos. Piper was holding onto a hyperventilating Phoebe while Paige was yelling at Leo to stop the Elders. None of them had missed the reference of themselves in context with his mother. None of them understood it, really, but it didn't matter. They were on Chris' side and that was that.  
Odin looked Chris directly in the eyes. "We warned you," he said coldly… and pulled the trigger.

Three screams filled the room; one was the sixteen year old's as he buckled to the ground, another was the empath's, and the last was the winged wolf cub's howl.

Piper, Paige, and Leo were momentarily shocked, then outraged. "How could you do that?" shrieked Piper, making their presence known. She advanced on the Elders, Paige and Leo hot on her heels. The Elders didn't take in her 'announcement' at first, their eyes too trained on the child as he tried to stop the bleeding as he had done with Paris, helpless sobs racking his body, but they did turn to pay attention as Piper flicked her fingers and the nearest Elder blew up. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!"

Odin spun around to face her. "What are you doing here? Who are you?" he demanded coldly.

"Who are we?" repeated Piper hotly as Paige ran to the teenager's side.

"No," Chris croaked barely audibly through the heart wrenching sobs. "No… _please_, God, _no_…"

Paige knelt down beside him, motioning frantically for Leo to come and heal the beautiful, dying creature. But no. With one last, feeble breath, Free Style was gone. Leo's hands went limp at his sides as he gazed down at the tangible, dead piece of Chris' very soul…

Chris had completely broken down in tears, and Paige tried to pull him into a hug without thinking, only to have him startle backwards. His anguish wrought green eyes flashed briefly up to meet hers, and Paige suppressed a small scream as she looked into them.

"Who are we?" repeated Piper hotly, and suddenly a wave of nausea hit her as two and two added up for the first time in her consciousness. Her eyes went wide… her mouth came open. No longer mentally present in the room, but instead in a form of shock, she murmured, "… We're his family."

**

* * *

Hey, sorry for the delay. Maybe you saw my note before it was 'taken down'. Anyways... How many people were expecting that? And I got SO many reviews that were horrified/angry that I killed Paris. Come on! I may be sadistic to some extent, but I couldn't kill off his last and best friend! Anyway... Review please!**


	20. The Cheesey Hero

**Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed. I don't own my brain (borrowed it only). I don't own the computer I'm typing on (bodily threw my cousin off her own computer so I could update). I don't own _anything_, okay!**

**A/N: SO, SO, SO sorry it took so long to update. I really was thinking about it (and future chapters) everyday that I wasn't updating. But I'll blame it on technical difficulties and just give you the story, now…**

* * *

Previously: 

_"Who are we?" repeated Piper hotly, and suddenly a wave of nausea hit her as two and two added up for the first time in her consciousness. Her eyes went wide… her mouth came open. No longer mentally present in the room, but instead in a form of shock, she murmured, "… We're his family."_

A look like a scowl crossed over Odin's face. "You can't be. They are all accounted for."

"They are," said a new voice, and the future version of Leo entered the room, his face cold and impassive.

For a moment there was silence on Piper's end. She was still just trying to deal with the fact that she was her neurotic whitelighter's mother. She couldn't understand it. She _knew _she was his mother, but she also knew that she would never, _EVER _hurt any child intentionally. She would never do any of the things his mother had done to him. It was just… impossible. She admitted her insecurities about being a failure of a mother, especially after Wyatt had conjured that dragon right underneath her nose, but she knew that she would never hit… _either_… of her sons. She wasn't that bad of a mom, no matter what insecurities she had.

Her head was spinning. It just couldn't be _possible_. There had to be a mistake. She just… she couldn't… she would _never _hurt her son. But why, then…? She didn't even know how to finish the thought.

The Leo of the past was staring at her. He had heard her realization, and she knew without looking at him that he had felt it was true. She also knew he didn't understand it any more than she did herself, even as he came to stand by her side.

…

Paige startled backwards, suppressing a scream. Chris' eyes… they had changed. Before when it had been hard to look him in the eye… now was lethal. They had been permanently scarred with the horrible onslaught of emotion, but now that had magnified, one hundred fold.

When she looked into them… she felt like her mind was screaming and breaking. She couldn't handle it. There were too many horrors hidden beneath his eyes, now. It was just too much. Without realizing it, there were tears streaming down her cheeks. Her breathing was short and ragged. She felt as though she had looked into the eyes of Agony himself, and it was starting to break her from the inside out. She was sobbing, and she didn't know what was happening to her. She doubted Chris even knew. But she did know what she felt. She felt that she was dying.

* * *

The 'adult' Chris considered his dilemma for the hundredth time. He had never liked going head to head with his oldest brother, first of all, but it was even less enjoyable when that brother took him out of his nice, safe time bubble and back into their own time and world, where the atmosphere always depressed him, the food was dry and tasted horrible, and his brother had his demon followers torture him. It just wasn't, for some reason, Chris' idea of a good time. 

But that was what had happened. Chris hadn't been in the mood to go all 'powerful bad ass' at a crucial point of the ever climaxing argument between himself and Wyatt, and he paid for it by allowing himself to be knocked unconscious by some spell or another from Wyatt… or, more accurately, the Source.

Eh, he thought without much emotion. Not that this was at all surprising. Wyatt… the _Source_… usually didn't take kindly being compared to an orangutan in a pink and yellow polka dotted tutu. He had known that even before he had made the comment, actually and surprisingly. He just hadn't been able to help himself… the opening for such a smart ass comment had been too perfect…

He had quite a time trying to hide the smile that wanted so badly to escape onto his lips. Smiling down in the Source's dungeons normally had more of a detrimental consequence when the demons standing guard beside him were taken into consideration.

He hastily tried to depress himself to make the desire to display amusement vanish. It wasn't hard. All he had to do was look around himself at the very small, leaky stone cell he was presently being contained in. He knew there were uncommonly powerful enchantments woven all around this particular cubical to prevent his escaping, or use of magic. The four demons that were standing on every side of him in the already cramped space had their eyes glued specifically on him, watching him with unnecessary scrutiny. The didn't even look as he threw his shoe through the bars of the cell; their eyes _never _left him.

Chris suspected Wyatt, who knew he couldn't stand being stared at for long periods of time, had given the demons those orders _exactly, _just to freak him out. Chris couldn't say it wasn't working.

He sighed theatrically as he considered his situation, _again_. He was trapped in an unnervingly impenetrable cell in his own time with not one soul who knew he was there. Wyatt would be coming any moment now to torture him to death, resurrect him, and torture him all over again until Chris went insane (again). There were no Resistance members left to find him and rescue him like there had always been before when he was separated from his FU team… And he was now missing a shoe.

Things couldn't be looking worse. Or so he thought.

Suddenly he heard the sound of… hoof beats. There was something _trotting _in his direction. Chris glanced up at his guards that were even worse than Devon (the bodyguard at the Resistance base) had been, to see if they'd heard anything. Of course, he couldn't tell because they never looked away from him. The one on his right made a growling sound and Chris rolled his eyes, looking away again. Apparently that particular demon didn't like being watched any more that Chris himself did.

He supposed he just had to wait and find out what it was… but he didn't have to wait for long. Right as the thought crossed his mind, the thing appeared right outside his cell and stopped. Chris' mouth fell open. "_Cheese?_"

The winged camel with a degree in psychology raised a cloven hoof and smacked the boy upside the head through the cell bars. The demon behind Chris chuckled, earning himself a fireball from the demon on his left. The fireball happy demon proceeded to hurtle one at the camel, but it merely went through it without harm. The camel rolled his eyes. "Oh please," he scoffed in his high intellect Irish accent. "If I could be killed, that kid you're currently responsible for guarding would have done it years ago."

With that said, the camel named Cheese walked straight through the bars into the already high occupancy cell. "Now, my demonic little fellows, I've always had a professional interest in the art of raising demonic children. I've only seen one demon that was a mother, and one that was a proud father, and he turned out to not even be a demon at all. Who raises the child? What about you, sir? What was your childhood like? And you-- do you have any children--? Hey! Where do you think you're going?" the camel demanded suddenly as the demons made a run for the cell barred door. When they found they were really locked in, they shared a look and threw their own energy and fire balls at themselves, vanquishing themselves in a heartbeat. Cheese looked confused and hurt.

Chris chuckled as he got to his feet. "Come on, you're smart… for some reason… you should know by now that people don't like talking about their childhood. Now, how do I get out of here?"

"What? Oh… just take a hold of my hair-- _gently, please! _We're not gorillas-- and walk with me through these bars. Bianca made sure they were safe for my brand of intangibility."

"You're brand?" repeated Chris, slightly affronted. He followed the winged camel through the bars, though.

"Yes, the kind that you don't have. My brand," Cheese 'clarified.' Chris rolled his eyes. This was so not the day to be arguing with a winged camel… _Whoa_, he thought absently. _That sounded weird…_

"So how are we going to get out of here? We're at the base, aren't we? There should be more security around here besides the personal guards."

The camel gave him a look, tilting his bifocals down as he did so. "Has being stuck in the past made you stupid or something? Of course we're at the base, and of course there will be more security around here soon."

"Or just me," came a new voice as they turned a corner and came face to face with a nineteen year old Damien Halliwell.

The teen hadn't changed significantly in two years; same long dark curls, same piercing grey eyes, same style of black trench coats that brushed the ground. This particular leather coat looked like it had pockets big enough to fit a body in… Chris made a mental note not to count that possibility out quite yet.

"Hello, Christopher."

Chris sighed heavily. He was really not in the mood to deal with two brothers in one day… "Damien. What's up?"

"Ceiling-- well… floor actually, seeing as we're underground," came the annoying, short response. "Please tell me you're not really talking to that winged camel."

"Sorry, can't do that," Chris snapped, just as abrupt. "So are you planning to get out of the way, or am I going to have to make you?"

Damien smiled, his eyes impassive. He stepped to the side and held out a hand as though to say 'after you.'

Chris eyed him suspiciously. He didn't move, besides to cross his arms. "Bored or plotting?"

"Ah… more bored than planning anything, really. It's rather dull without you here shaking things up. Which reminds me: _What the hell were you thinking, going to the past?_ Do you have a death wish? Wyatt was furious! He freaking turned the planet upside down looking for you, and when he realized what'd happened he blew up the rest of Africa! Some of my favorite girlfriends were in Africa, damn you!"

Chris stared at him. That last part seemed rather strangely worded… but anyway… "That's really not my problem. We evacuated the civilians out of Africa last year when all those volcanoes started going haywire. He only had his own people to kill there."

Damien crossed his arms, his usual nonchalant attitude… different. Changed. Chris watched him, suddenly not feeling as certain as he normally was around this brother. He had an insistent nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something wasn't right.

There was silence. After a length, however, Damien was the one who broke it, his expression not easy. "Come on, Christopher, let's get you out of here… You don't belong in this base."

He took Chris, who had been shocked into silence, by the arm and pulled him the rest of the way down the hall before Chris finally was able to react. "Wait, wait. Hold it. You want to help me? Why? What's in it for you?"

Damien looked mildly surprised, but had sense to release Chris' arm before he had his own broken for what would probably be the thirtieth time. "Uh… nothing really. You're just no fun unless you have room to fight. I like to see you struggle, but it's not the same when I know you have no chance of winning. Kind of takes the fun out of it, wouldn't you say? Now watch out for that second stair-- it disappears sometimes," he added as they started up the damp wooden stairs leading to the first exit level.

Chris still couldn't stop staring at him, but jumped from the first stair to the third-- and fell back to the ground face first. Damien burst out laughing. "Okay, I lied, I lied," he gasped between peels of laughter. "The third stair disappears--!" After a second he let the laughter die down, and wiped a tear from his eye theatrically. "Jeez, that never gets old…"

Chris raised himself up on his elbows enough to glare at him. Fine, maybe he was telling the truth. That was definitely the Damien attitude he knew. Therefore, he knew he could trust him for the most part when it came to helping him get out of this place. He might not be unscathed, but hey, nothing was without its price.

* * *

Paige felt that she was dying, and Phoebe sensed it, even through Chris' pain. Short of breath, struggling to stay conscious through the agony, Phoebe knew that this was what had changed his eyes. This was when he had been forced to start glamouring them blue to get rid of the 'coma inducing effect.' But they had been perfectly safe from it when he wore his sunglasses… and it was the only thing her sister could try, so… "Paige, call for sunglasses!" she forced her voice out, but it wasn't more than a rugged whisper. No one heard her. 

She tried again to call out, but when she felt the tidal wave of pain break forth from Piper and Leo combined, that was it. Her vision blackened slowly, starting from the edges and moving in…

…

Chris was completely overwhelmed. Something, he knew, was wrong with his eyes again, judging by yet another person's horrified expression, but who was this girl, exactly? Why was she here when… oh God, he thought, feeling the pain starting to cripple him again. This wasn't happening… Free Style wasn't… his soul wasn't… and he thought it had been too much before…

His eyes weren't working properly… it was dim… blurred… or maybe that was just the tears and pain. Maybe he was just about to pass out… but no. Life was too cruel to let him out that easily. He couldn't lose consciousness, even if he tried, no matter how much he wanted it.

That knowledge devastated him even further. He had lost the last remaining thing he shared with his twin… he had lost the last piece of his soul that could be shared with her… with anyone… and yet he couldn't even pass out for a few hours. Not even minutes.

The sobs started coming harder. He hated life. He hated it more than he had ever hated anything before in his life. Why couldn't it just give him a break, just _once_? Why did it love to watch him fighting for his sanity, his life, his soul, every second of his waking life? Why did it force him to dream about that waking life, even in his sleeping state? It was cruel beyond words. It was cruel beyond feelings. It was just cruel…

And then it didn't matter. It was life, and it would be staying for more than a little while longer, so… of course he cared. Of course it hurt and he threw inward tantrums every moment he was forced to endure more minutes of it, but it didn't matter.

With a sigh, the tears slowed to a stop. It didn't matter. Not now. Not when there was still someone hurt who he'd have to help. The self pity could wait, he thought with frightening indifference. And wiping the trail of tears from his face, he held out his hand and a pair of completely black sunglasses appeared in it. With only a slight chilled shudder, he slid them on so he couldn't hurt anyone with his emotions… At the time, he had no idea that he would still be forced to wear sunglasses years in the future, even after he learned to glamour the pain away… therein turning them blue as the only compromised result. Even his eighteen year old self hadn't figured out how to get the natural color back when glamouring…

In clear sight of the Elders, he leaned forward and healed the young woman, who had lost consciousness seconds ago.

But the Elders weren't watching. Something else was happening beyond his range of vision, something that was occupying all their attention. He looked back down to the girl, and for a split second could have sworn he'd seen her image flicker into… but no. It was just the strange blonde girl Prue had introduced to him and the others as Naomi. But… _no_.

Her eyelids fluttered and he took his hands back, watching her carefully as she tried to sit up. If she couldn't sit up… well, then she didn't need to. If she was that bad off, she needed to lie down. If she could… then she would on her own. And he wasn't eager to get close to her anymore than he already had, when he healed her.

At length, she was sitting up and looked over to him, eyes clouded over slightly. "Chris…" she groaned softly, and rubbed her head, which was obviously aching. "What… happened…? Are you… are you okay?"

Chris was taken aback once again by this woman. Her immediate concern over someone she didn't know (or so he thought) was enough to throw him off for a while. Somehow, though, he managed to say in a small, wavering voice, "Yeah… I'll… I'll live."

She groaned and looked at him again, eyes cleared over and alert now. She had suddenly remembered hearing Piper's revelation… but that wasn't so surprising once she thought about it. It was surprising, though, when she also took into account that she… or one of her sisters… had abused him. That… that just didn't seem… _possible_. She knew Piper definitely had more anger management problems than most people, and she was far more angry than herself and Phoebe, but even Piper wouldn't hurt a kid. Wyatt's happiness was proof of that…

She shook her head as though to clear it. That did the job, for the most part, and she struggled to her feet. Chris had zoned out completely after uttering his meager response, and for a moment she could but simply look down at him, her mind starting to run away with her again. She could see, now that she tried, that he definitely had the Halliwell looks. She had often flipped through the family photo albums, familiarizing herself with their ascendants and, though she probably would never admit it, trying to find something of herself in each of them. It was easy to find (Prue,) Piper, and Phoebe in their foremothers, but it was mostly frustrating because she couldn't find herself.

Now she saw the shape of his eyes were Piper and Patty's; he had Prue's curving lips, Penny's strong but smooth chin, the nonnegotiable Halliwell cheek bones… everything but his eye color she could recognize… She'd never seen anyone, period, with eyes that shade of green… and now they were hidden behind completely black sunglasses. It was rather depressing.

"Come on," she said softly, holding out her hand. "Let's get out of here. There's no reason to stay…"

Towards the end of the sentence, her eyes strayed to the prostrate body of the young, deceased wolf cub. The blood that had seeped from the wound onto the pale, yielding floor was covered beneath the extended feathers… the majestic ebony wings hanging limply over its body; the tips had curled around it, finishing the scene off like a blanket of gleaming dark light over the outline of soft innocence. The innocence that had been slaughtered for punishment's namesake…

Chris' eyes had wandered there, too, behind the glasses, and didn't move for some time. Then, gradually he tilted his head to see Paige better. He didn't speak.

Paige would have started to feel uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what he was looking for, or even at, but she didn't have time. The sudden outbreak of irate screaming and sounds of a fight broke her thoughts from it almost instantly. "What the…?" she muttered, snapping her attention to where it was coming from. And that just happened to be where she'd last seen Piper and Leo.

"_YOU SON OF A _----!" came a voice Paige recognized as Piper's through the other muffled noises of chaos. But it was in a tone she'd never heard Piper use before… Paige had never heard her that angry the entire time they had known each other. It was enough to scare the youngest Charmed One's face white. It continued, barely distinguishable through the sounds of a violent fray going on.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT _TO YOUR OWN SON! _WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? _YOU FREAKING BASTARD!_ DON'T YOU EVEN COME _NEAR _HIM, DO YOU HEAR ME? _EVER AGAIN_!"

Paige completely forgot about her newfound nephew and sprinted the length of the room, struggled through the mass of Elders that were trying get near enough to Piper to placate her, and fell bodily on the floor when she finally managed to break through. She lifted her head first, pulling herself up on her elbows, to see Piper looking more homicidally enraged than she'd ever seen her. There were furious blotches of red and white across her face, he eyes were almost literally on fire. And she was taking on… _Leo_, kicking, punching, and blowing up every chance and thing she could.

But… there was Leo, too, standing beside her and looking beside himself with rage. His face was contorting with ire as his blue grey eyes bore into his future self's face whenever it appeared over the wrath of Piper. He made no move whatsoever to stop his wife from beating the ever living hell out of his future version, but on the contrary, looked as if he might join her at any moment.

Paige scrambled to her feet hastily and tried to pry her sister off the now bloody and bruised Leo. She didn't care about her own sudden feelings of hatred toward the man, but knew that repeatedly killing the man would do nobody any good, no matter how much better it made them feel. "No, Piper, come on. This is not the answer. Come ON! Get off him! That's it-- that's it. Come on, now," she coaxed as soon as Piper had paused for breath. She cautiously pulled her older sister a safe distance away, trying her best not to make it so sudden that Piper would rebel and go back after him. It worked.

Piper, panting for breath, still looking dangerous and in the mood for ass-kicking, allowed herself to be hauled away. "Yeah, that's right; you know you just got your butt _kicked_," she said loudly, and turned on the spot, looking for something. "Yeah, now where's _my _future self? She needs a good stomping, too--"

"Piper!" scolded Paige, also grabbing Leo's shoulder and steering him to a distance. "You're… um… dead… Remember?"

"Oh yeah," realization hit Piper, but seemingly not too hard. "Chris killed me didn't he? Well good riddance. I deserved whatever I got if I ever… ever did that to… to my…" her voice trailed off and she suddenly seemed to deflate. Anger was no longer her mask… she couldn't use it as an excuse… She burst into tears, sobbing into a shocked and confused Paige's shoulder. "Paige… I did that to Chris… I… my son, Paige. I did all of those… those horrible things… to my son… Chris is my… my son… Oh, God, Paige…"

**

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A/N: Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews! Really need comments to lay my insecurities about _this _chapter at rest, okay? Please? AND, before I forget, how many people have NEVER seen an episode of the TV show: Supernatural? I'm thinking about doing a minor flick with Sam and Dean, but it will all depend. This isn't a crossover story, really. **

**Anyway, I updated on Alex's birthday! You _can't _beat that, J.H.! And if you _try _to so much as _say _you can do better… don't go to sleep tonight.**


	21. The End of the Archeohauge

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I only play in the elaborate field that has been set up by my idols. :Drools over Aaron Spelling:Just kidding. Eeww.:**

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At long last, Paige's instincts kicked in and she gently pulled Piper into an embrace, allowing her to sob into her shoulder. "It's okay, Piper," she murmured quietly, feeling her heart seeming to become heavier and heavier. All she could do was console Piper… Chris she couldn't, or wouldn't be able, to get to… and she'd left him alone sitting beside the winged shard of his soul. She closed her eyes and continued to rub Piper's back, letting her own emotions weigh themselves down in her subconscious. "It's going to be fine. Come on, sweetie, it hasn't happened yet. We can change it. We can all change it. It'll be better, I promise."

Leo stood nearby, tears in his eyes and he didn't even try to hide them. The other, older Leo was being healed by Gideon. Phoebe was still unconscious on the floor not too far away.

With a distracted sigh, Leo brushed aside the recently shed tear trails and walked over to where Phoebe was, and knelt down to wake her. By the time she was coming around, Piper had regained control of herself, though her eyes and nose were red, and she and Paige made their way over to them, Paige still holding her shoulders supportively.

Leo offered them a weak smile and Phoebe groaned, sitting up. She lifted a hand shakily and held her head in it. "Ugh… what happened?" she croaked, massaging her temples feebly when the hand-on-head got her nowhere.

The other three shared a look before Paige answered, giving her a hand up. "Um… well, the Leo from this time came and Piper kicked his abusive b butt… and I pried her off him basically--"

"Wait, wait, wait," Phoebe interrupted, confusion on her face. "Why would Piper want to kick Leo's butt? What happened?" Then it hit her. The mentioning of Chris' mother when they were talking about the Charmed Ones… then Piper's and Leo's pain that had caused her to pass out again. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God… you're his parents."

Paige nodded as Piper's face contorted in pain again and she began to cry into Paige's shoulder. Phoebe made an apologetic face when she realized what she'd said. For a moment, there was silence. At length, however, she had to ask, "So where is Leo now? And what about Chris? I can't sense him anymore…"

"Oh… some Elder is healing Leo and Chris is still by… Free Style," Paige responded softly, silently adding 'body' to the end of the sentence. Free Style's body.

Phoebe nodded in acknowledgment, but stopped suddenly. Her eyes went wide yet again. This time, however, she whirled around on the spot in the direction she'd felt a massive wave of fear slam into her from.

"Phoebe, what--?" began Piper in a choked voice, but halted immediately when she looked in that direction as well.

There was the future version of Leo, fully healed and looking furious, towering above his teenaged, horrified, and traumatized youngest son, hissing words-- probably threats-- and continuously advancing on the continuously retreating boy.

For a split second, the ones from the past were too shocked to even move, but when the future Leo grabbed Chris roughly by the arm and jerked him to his feet, they snapped into action.

"Hey!" Piper yelled, ready to kick his butt again. "_Let him go!_"

The future Leo threw her a look that made them all hate him even more, if it was possible. "You have no right to tell me how to handle my filthy, murdering son, thank you," he said, dangerously soft as he threw Chris another look of daggers.

"The hell I don't," hissed Piper in tones to rival his own. She flicked her fingers at him, using her power to blow him up, but he had probably known her long enough to know what she was going to do, and managed to roughly swap places with Chris. The young halfblood was caught in the crossfire instead.

The force of his father's 'position swap' and the force behind his mother's power combined sent Chris colliding with the ground, supporting a new bloody gash on his shoulder, courtesy of his mother's mistake.

Piper gasped in pure horror at what she'd done. Her knees gave out beneath her and tears filled her eyes yet again. She could vaguely register her sisters trying to say it had been an accident while at the same time they were trying to come up with what to do… Panic and horror were making everything fall apart in their minds. They all thought, deep down yet so near the surface, that this wasn't really happening. Too bad they also knew it was.

As the Charmed Ones and his past self were in their own chaos, the future Leo grabbed Chris again by the arm and wrenched him to his feet. His heart held no sympathy for the terror that lined his son's face. He couldn't see the boy's eyes through the sunglasses, but he didn't care. It was his eyes that he hated the most… Then he felt that hatred he felt when he saw his son's big green eyes begin to flare up within him, and before he could so much as threaten Chris, his hand flew out and struck the boy so hard in the face Chris would have fallen had his father not been gripping his arm so tightly.

Chris didn't cry out, or even make a noise beside a small audible exhalation of breath. He hadn't done more than that for years if he'd only been hit across the face. Leo didn't care. On the contrary, even that thought angered him. Everything about Chris angered him, actually. On that note, he reached out with his free hand and grabbed his son's chin, forcing his face up to look at him… something he hadn't done in a long time. He hated looking at the boy, but now he wanted to hate him enough to kill him, like Chris had killed his wife little more than two years ago.

The man could feel his son instantly begin to try and pull away, but the kid was so scared of him his efforts were little more than faint tugs. But… this time was different. This was the first time they'd come face to face since that night Chris had tried to kill him and had killed Piper. This time Chris getting on in his teenage years-- not the small little kid he'd last seen. But this teen was just as afraid. Or was he…?

Leo could faintly make out another emotion besides fear, even without seeing his eyes. And, sure enough, this time Chris was able to speak, other than plead. In a tiny, soft voice, the son asked, "Why…? Why do you hate m-me so much?"

Leo didn't answer, but felt his hatred deepen. He didn't like Chris questioning him, now that the boy finally had the courage to. With a flush of pure rage, Leo released his hold on Chris' arm and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending the boy crashing to the ground several feet away.

By this time, however, the ones from the past had finally come to their senses, and the future Leo could hear the blonde he knew was his glamoured sister-in-law Paige, demand of her orbing power, "_Chris! Earth!_"

…

Chris felt himself dissolve in the blue spheres completely by surprise. What had… happened? The entire time with his father again… they had had communication with each other for a few months now, maybe a year, but seeing him in person again… after so long… Chris felt like he was a little kid once more, not a teenager with the power to kick some serious butt, himself. He had had no idea what was going on around them, and suddenly he was being orbed back into the tunnel where he his team was fighting a losing battle.

After he had lost his own battle.

For a few moments at a time, Chris thought he could ignore the pain, the agony that was losing his animal soul mate… and then it would come back in ten fold. Then Leo… seeing his father again… his father hitting him again… His team was losing all around him. It was like Paris dying all over again… He couldn't take this.

He wasn't going to go through more pain. He wasn't going to watch any of them die. He wasn't. He was at wit's end on how to cope with this… but then again, he knew what he was going to do, regardless. He was going to save them like he always would. Like he had the other night when the titans were slaughtering them… when he had actually stopped and asked the Source of all Evil himself to call the attack off. But Wyatt had, if only out of surprise at hearing his brother was there, too…

Chris had sank to his knees long ago… He was on the ground, eyes filled with never-falling tears behind the opaque sunglasses, not quite breathing… at all. His mind was suddenly very blank… but very much there. He knew without thinking what he was doing.

With one last effort, he closed his eyes and summoned the last of what was left of his severely drained power. It wasn't a lot; turning back time had taken so much out of him… But there was some, there was enough. With a cold, empty deliberation, he took a breath, and threw that power out of him in its natural, raw and untamed form. Almost immediately he felt himself falling, slipping out consciousness from the exertion, but not before he knew he had vanquished the ones that were trying to hurt the people he cared about.

Then merciful darkness stole over him, wrapping him in its arms and holding him mercifully tight. He was taken completely by it before he even hit the ground.

…

Leo, Piper, Phoebe, and Paige orbed in only moments later to find the team and Bianca still catching their breath and beginning to nurse wounds. Duncan pulled a wooden stake out of his chest (it had missed his heart), Andre was getting the bandages to wrap the long bloody gash in her leg, Bianca popped her shoulder blade back into place, Paris was wiping the blood from her busted lip and surveying the damage, and Joden was still unconscious.

It didn't take long for any of them to realize Chris had vanquished the Green Pins, therein saving their lives, and with the help of the sisters and Leo, the team found him lying on the floor near the entrance, out cold. Paris was by his side in an instant, looking furious beneath her calm exterior, though. As she lifted his head off the ground and set it in her lap, they could all her hear mutter, "I told you not to fight it, damn it."

Several smiled slightly at that, but didn't say anything. They all wondered, however, what she meant when she'd said she told him not to fight it. Fight what? Her dying? And when had they had that conversation?

Then, at the other end of the room, Joden stirred, groaning. Within next to no time, Bianca was in front of him and throwing him forcefully back against the wall, knife to his throat. When the young man was awake enough to see what she was doing, he looked taken aback, and very uncomfortable.

"Uh… Bianca, as much as I like being this close to a beautiful girl such as yourself, the knife is kind of throwing me off… what's up?"

"What's up?" Paris hissed without moving from where she and Chris were. Her voice carried, nonetheless. "_What's up? _You shot me is what's up!"

At this, Joden looked completely bemused. "Say what…?"

Paris threw him a foul look, making him cringe, before smiling and shaking her head. "You were possessed and you shot me. Chris had to rewind time to save me-- yeah, I died," she added at his confused look. Apparently after being possessed then knocked out makes one somewhat slower than usual. Paris didn't seem to mind, however. She merely continued to stroke Chris' hair and smile to herself. The girl honestly wasn't holding a grudge against her own killer…

After a moment of silence Bianca sighed and stood, sheathing her knife at her side. She offered Joden a hand up and he accepted warily. Then there was silence again.

Never before had they realized how much Chris guided them, even when he was silent. Now he was unconscious and it didn't look as though he would be coming around any time soon. There was still more silence.

After a length, Piper broke it. "Um… why don't we get what we came for and just orb back to the jet?"

"The Source can track orbing," replied Bianca blandly. "But I'll shimmer us. What did the things look like?" She walked along the shelves that remained in tack, looking back to someone, anyone, for an answer. Leo went to join her and picked out the one the Elders wanted. Joden shook his head as though to clear it, then focused his vision and pointed to one to her left. She picked it up.

It was in the shape of a sphere, about as large as a softball, but was translucent and powered blue. It had a spinning gold bar that went across the top and was currently making a faint whirring sound. The one Leo had gotten merely looked like an opaque, red hourglass.

With this accomplished, Bianca made her way back to them. She knelt down and took Paris' and Chris' hands, instructing, "Everyone take hands… And here we go…"

There was a moment when they felt like they had suddenly become fuzzy and smushed around their sides, then the compaction moved inwards, and before they knew it they were standing next to the jet again. Phoebe immediately released Piper's hand, who in turn let go of Paris', and wobbled over to the nearest boulder and sat down. She looked queasy. Bianca gave her a wry smile, before turning her attention to the jet.

"Anyone know how to fly it?" she asked curiously.

Paris glanced up, still sitting at Chris' side. "Nope, but Chris sets the autopilot pretty often, so there should be a button or something to turn it on. Could you, like, shimmer us in the jet instead of beside it?"

Bianca blushed, but they all took hands again and she shimmered them inside the passenger haul. Still looking like a scolded little girl, she disappeared into the pilot's cabin. There was silence for a few moments and Paris and Paige together lifted Chris onto the long seat at the side of the room. He was so light Paige figured she could have lifted him by herself without even breaking a sweat. Paris didn't seem as surprised, though, but no less grim.

Not much later, as they were all taking seats (Piper and Leo deliberately as far away from their unconscious son as possible, too afraid to get near enough to hurt him), the engine started and they lifted off. When it leveled itself again and Bianca came back into their little space, Paris stood as well and went to sit next to Joden. He took her hand wordlessly and offered a slight wry smile. Paris smiled back, though her expression was once more serene.

There wasn't any speaking for hours. They had long since crossed back over the Atlantic Ocean when there was suddenly a shrill beeping from the pilot's cabin. They all started from their dazed states and Bianca hurried to check it out, leaving the door open so they could see what was going on, too. She peered over the panel of strange knobs, buttons, and lights with an anxious expression before calling over her shoulder, "We're almost out of gas!" She whirled back around to face them. "What do we do?"

Joden climbed to his feet reluctantly and joined her. Without a word, he began tapping buttons, pulling up a screen on the windshield and leafing through it by twisting a knob. At their querying looks, he answered dismissively, "I'm checking for alternate routes programmed on autopilot that are near here. I can't really tell what they are, though… he labels them all weird."

"Or maybe you just can't read his handwriting," said Chris groggily, surprising everyone. They turned to see him sitting up and looking like he had a serious migraine. He smiled weakly. "Morning, campers."

"Chris!" Paris said brightly, looking remarkably relieved, but suddenly even more concerned. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Chris shook his head as he got to his feet, still looking somewhat dazed. "Ask me that when this is all over." Ignoring several voices of protest that he should sit back down and rest, he walked to the front and wordlessly ushered Joden and Bianca out of his cabin. He practically fell into the cushiony chair before asking, voice hollow, "Where are we, exactly?"

"Uh… we just passed Detroit, Michigan a few minutes ago," supplied Joden, taking his seat next to an alert Paris.

"Michigan…" repeated Chris thoughtfully, tiredly. He checked the gas meter again and let a slight sigh escape. "We've got enough…"

"Enough for what?" asked Paris. Then, "Hey-- isn't this where Paige and Phoebe set up that shelter for innocents?"

Chris' looked even more depressed and shut the door, not bothering to answer. The company turned to Paris, all waiting for an explanation. The girl looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or groan. After a while, she managed without much expression, "Two of the Charmed Ones set up a safe house of sorts for innocents that can't defend themselves in this sort of war. He… they… Paige and Phoebe and Chris don't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things. And then there's all the uncomfortable silences that we have to map into the equation, too…"

The team, besides Paris, had no idea of Chris' relations. They were all startled, and amazed to find out when they landed that he so much as _knew _two of the infamous Charmed Ones. He reminded them, in a sarcastic way of course, that Prue just happened to be one as well. They were even more surprised when Paige (the future version) came out to meet them personally, upon receiving their message, and immediately threw her arms around him, on the verge of tears.

Chris jerked out of the embrace on pure reflex, but neither picked it up again when he had 'mellowed out.' It was the first awkward silence they had been warned of. After a moment, he introduced his team and the Charmed Ones and Leo under their aliases. When Paige met her future self's eyes as they were shaking hands, all four knew their cover was blown.

"Naomi," the woman of the future repeated, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Nice to meet you. Prue's told me so much about you and your friends, of course. So… how 'bout we walk together and Chris can lead the way inside. You remember the way, don't you?" she added to him, somewhat uncomfortably. It wasn't unnoticed by anyone.

They were positive Chris was giving her a look behind his sunglasses. Instead of making a sarcastic reply they could all feel coming, he merely shook his head and led the way inside the building that might have once been a college, but was now a safe house for though caught involuntarily in the middle of the war. Paige's self allowed a bit of distance to come between them and the FU team (and Bianca) before demanding the story, her eyes mostly falling on Piper and Leo.

Paige noticed and hastily explained that they were from a past where Chris hadn't been born yet. She told her(self) that the twenty-two year old Chris had come back from the future, and that he'd been taken by his fiancée (she didn't say it was Bianca) and that they were waiting for him to find them, like he'd said he would. She threw in the part that they were getting something for the Elders as an afterthought.

All the while, the older woman listened attentively, nodding in appropriate places and not interrupting. At the end, she asked in a low voice, "So, what's got him so stressed out? If he doesn't know it's really you…"

There was silence as the ones from the past shared grave looks. Then Phoebe explained what had happened Up There. At this story, Paige exclaimed, "WHAT?" in several spots, and when Phoebe came to the part about Leo, the currently oldest sister's face completely fell, and her eyes turned sad. She swallowed hard and looked away.

"So you know about… about his childhood, already, then?"

They nodded less than enthusiastically. There was silence. They glanced up to see that the team with the addition of Bianca had outstripped them, and were nowhere in sight. There was more silence as they continued walking.

At length, the Paige of the future sighed. "Alright, you've had a long day. I'll show you to some dorms-- or rooms, whatever you want to call them. Just dial zero on the phone in there for our room service."

…

Piper couldn't sleep. Phoebe, Paige, Leo and herself had stayed up watching some futuristic TV show and eating pizza in silence before finally calling it quits. None of them had ventured to suggest they go see Chris or even the future Phoebe or Paige again. Now she lay in her own bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell had caused her to screw up so bad and abuse her child. Her eyes seemed to be constantly flowing tears, now that the shock had worn off and she was coming to terms with everything… if it was possible to ever come to terms with such things.

Time passed but sleep wouldn't come. At two o'clock, she finally sighed and got out of bed, wrapping a blanket around herself as she did so. She made her way silently and with a heavy heart to the door and slipped out, walking down the deserted, dark corridors with no idea or care about where she was going. But… something about hallway leading out onto a balcony called to her, and she obeyed.

Just as she felt the first lick of cool wind brush her hair, she could make out a figure standing there, leaning against the balcony silently and watching something through the darkness. Piper didn't feel threatened by it at all; on the contrary, she had a strange sensation she knew who it was, so she made her way towards it.

It was Prue.

"Hey," her older sister smiled sadly, blue-grey eyes glittering. In the moonlight, her unfamiliar wrinkles stood out, proof to the stress she'd been under since she'd died. "What's up, sweetie?"

Piper stood beside her, looking out into the night. They were several stories up, the castle-like roof right beside them. In the distance, waves broke against the shore of a lake; pine trees rustled mysteriously, hiding the lone owl within their midst. The railing of the balcony was cool stone, carved in gentle swirling patterns. It was a serene night, and it seemed to calm her.

"We know Chris is my son," she whispered, but this time the tears were stopping instead of getting harder. 'We saw Leo and we heard what we did to him from our own mouths. We saw parts of his life…"

She stopped, closing her eyes. She felt Prue come closer and take her hand gently. For that one moment, Piper wanted time to freeze… everywhere. Everything. She wanted her big sister to stay right beside her forever, with her soft support, her reassuring presence. She didn't want to have to go back to her own time and torture her small son all the way into his teenage years. She didn't want to live in that time where this big sister hated her for it. She just wanted Prue to be like she used to be-- alive and always there for her and Phoebe, handling things they couldn't, protecting them from bullies and demons alike.

Piper leaned into her, cherishing the first hug she'd felt from her sister in years. "Prue," she whispered. "Why did you die? You left us so alone… so alone, and we can't… God, we miss you so much. I miss you so much…"

Prue hugged her back harder, never wanting to let go, either. Tears were in her eyes as she whispered, "I know, honey. I know…"

Neither knew how long they stood there in the night, just embracing and missing each other. Missing how things used to be. Neither wanted it to end and them have to come back and face reality. But it did end, and they did pull apart.

Prue sighed, looking out across the rooftops of the towers at what she'd been watching before meeting her sister. Piper looked out as well, and saw two figures actually sitting up there, talking quietly. She turned back to Prue, questioning, "Who are they?"

Prue smiled softly. "That's Dad and Chris."

Piper's confusion increased, but after a moment her face just became tired. "Prue… I want you to tell me everything. No leaving out names or reasons or anything. Just… tell me about Chris… and Wyatt and Jessica, too… And Damien. I… I want to know."

Prue watched her younger sister for a moment, then looked out at Chris and Victor. "Alright, Piper," she whispered, a sad smile tilting her lips. "I guess I'll start with why you gave him up to the Elders when he was born…"

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**A/N: Hey everybody! Thankyou for all of the wonderful reviews! I really 'adore' the support (someone challenged me to use the nasty word 'adore' today, so wha-la)! Hope you guys liked this chapter and will review! **

**PS: More of Chris and Damien in the future chapters... I think. I may just let how he reunites with the Charmed Ones and Leo again in the '16 year old' time period be a mystery... But I love Damien so much... Grr. Need help deciding... Please?**

**PPS: I am NEVER going to leave this story, like, unfinished. Just so you know, you can have a little faith in that. It may be taking longer to write them and whatnot, but I won't stop until it's finished. Thankyou. :Takes a bow:**


	22. Why

**Disclaimer: Grrr.**

**Just a little warning: I'm evil. ((But I am trying to get that element of humor back. Too much angst drags me _down,_ and this iscoming from a goth, mind you.)) ((PS: Gothic hippie. I'm a gothic hippie... (don't ask)))**

* * *

"I guess I'll start with why you gave him up to the Elders when he was born…" Prue said before taking a moment to gather what she was going to say. The two stared into the night, occasionally letting their eyes move to their family members sitting on the rooftops. Then Prue began, "There was a prophecy made by the same seer who said Wyatt would be twice blessed. It was about two magical twins, one boy, one girl, born into the same family as Wyatt. Obviously Chris and Jess. Those two twins were supposed to be as powerful as Wyatt when they were together… but they were supposed to more easily swayable to good or evil, even after they'd chosen a side, if they were together. For that reason, demons were coming after them left, right, and center. You, Phoebe, Paige, Leo, and even a little Wyatt couldn't stop them forever, and so you put a little trust in the Elders…" 

She paused, seemingly not liking the next part. But she forced herself to say it anyway. "Just Chris… since they were only turn-able when they were together… but they were still damn powerful beings even when they were apart. Because of that, Chris and Jess kept in touch without even realizing it ever since they were babies, and one day, five years later, they found a way back to each other. There was a group of Elders that had never liked them anyway, and when Chris came back to Earth, they completely flipped. I think… I think they put a spell on you to help them bind Chris' powers and… and you tried to drown him, not even risking drowning both in case they reunited in death.

"Obviously, it didn't work. An Elder named Charity saved him and replaced his whitelighter with me," she smiled a twisted smile at that, but her face turned grave again, and she looked out over the lake, away from Piper. "He was terrified, I remember. He had never come across people he was supposed to be able to love who would try to kill him. He was afraid of me especially, since I was family. He stayed back Up There for a while until Charity had dealt with the possibility of someone on our side trying to kill him again. But they couldn't keep him up there anymore, now that Wyatt knew he had a baby brother to protect, and there was no way to keep the twins apart since they'd finally found each other. But… when he came back… you and Leo… that was when you started to change. It was barely noticeable at first-- the absent-minded comments and putdowns, the forgetfulness when it came to remembering there was another kid in the house… then it started to get worse until you were constantly degrading him… and then you starting hitting him… and neglecting him.

"At first, I was the only one to notice. I talked to you about it, and you acted as though you had done nothing wrong. You acted like he deserved it. That wasn't you, I knew, so I looked for any spells that might be on you. I found none. I tried to reverse anything that might have changed in you. It didn't work either. I tried everything for over a year before finally accepting that it was something out of my control…"

"You mean… it was all me?" whispered Piper, feeling like she had been physically slapped across the face. There had still been something in her hoping, praying, she had been under some kind of outside influence… But she knew her sister. Prue _really _would have tried _everything _before giving in, because she was definitely not lazy, and she had never been one to easily call it quits. She also hated being proved wrong…

Prue shrugged helplessly. "I want to say no, sweetie, but I never found anything pointing towards demons, warlocks, or _anything!_ I used sure-guarantee spells, I made up good ones of my own, I tried potions, charms, everything, but nothing would change." She seemed to want to rant longer, but stopped herself. With another sigh, she turned back away and continued her story.

"So about the time I was giving up, you were getting so bad he was terrified to be in the same room with you. Then that's when Damien showed up on our doorstep, so to speak. You see… he came from an alternate reality where the world was being torn apart by war. The Piper from that world was the only Charmed One left, and instead of Chris and Jess being born in that world, there was Damien. Your alternate reality self came through a portal with him, severely wounded. She died not too long afterwards and you, Phoebe, and Paige would never send a little seven year old boy back to a war beaten world, so you and Leo adopted him."

She halted, but this time a smile pulling at her features. Piper gave her a look that said, 'What can possibly be funny about this?' and Prue laughed silently. "Damien… barely a year older than Chris and Jess, a year younger than Wyatt… and completely evil from day one. He loved you, Paige, and Wyatt immediately, but absolutely hated me, Phoebe, and--wait for it-- Chris. I don't really know how he felt about Jessie, though. They could have some pretty explosive fights, but I think he liked having such a firecracker for a little sister, deep down. He was pretty torn up when she died, too…

"But anyway, I don't like talking about Damien. He was just plain evil towards my beautiful charge," she continued, making Piper smile slightly at the way she said it. "And he still is, really, though Chris isn't as afraid to fight back as he used to be. But anyway… Two years after you tried to drown Chris, things were bad. Really bad. Wyatt and Jessie never actually saw it, but if you or Leo so much as came in the room they would sit around him casually, I remember, and keep talking. They knew it was happening and they tried to protect their brother as much as they could. Wyatt was gone a lot more than Jess, though, so he didn't really have a chance to take more drastic measures like she did. You see… Jess started using her powers to keep her brother safe-- her shield, mainly. She had a bit of telekinesis she could sort of absorb from Chris and use, too… and it started to piss you and Leo off. You started hitting her when she did it, and then it got to the point where you just treated her like Chris…" her voice trailed off and she seemed to want to just stare into space and not finish it. But… Piper was remembering something that probably happened around this time, and she really had to know.

"Um… Prue… what happened when… Why did we… we never… sexually abused him, did we?" her question came out finally in less than a whisper.

Prue glanced at her before turning back to the lake. "Only that once, and only because there was a demon going around that made everyone act more… harshly. You both regretted doing it afterwards 'cause it… it really…" she stopped, catching her breath. "You never meant to hurt him like that, no matter how much you hated him. Of course, when you were really pissed, you would use it as a threat, but you never would have carried it out. You never needed to, anyway…" her voice faded again. They looked to the rooftops where Victor and Chris sat and were somehow surprised to find Chris laughing.

So was Victor, apparently, because he threw him hands up into the air, shouting, "YES! YES, I GOT HIM TO LAUGH! OH, YEAH!" Then he proceeded to stand up on the shingled floor and do a jig, shaking his rear end quite a bit, causing Chris to laugh even harder in the way that makes your face turn red and tears come down your cheeks.

Prue chuckled and shook her head at the irony. Once the daughters got bored of their father's rug cutting, Prue took a moment and continued. "Okay… so he would be about eight right now. This is where schizophrenic shock starts coming into use, on both him and Jess. Since magic can't help them after three years… they turn to humans. Since Paige had taken up her social working again by then, they went to her office to talk to her instead of going to school. Neither she, nor Phoebe knew what was going on, really, so of course Paige didn't believe them. She scolded them for lying about something so serious and called you to pick them up… but, from what Paige told me, you never got the chance. Jess took Chris' hand and orbed out to somewhere. I was with another charge at the time… but that was the day Jessie killed herself. I don't know how, and I don't know why then, of all times. But she did… and you found them… and you… you blamed Chris' and of course you… took it out on him…"

Prue's voice was shaking at that and she had to look away again, if only for a moment. Then she continued. "After the funeral, Paige realized they were telling the truth, Phoebe found out when she confronted you about it… Chris was sent to foster home after foster home but none of them worked. Paige even tried to adopt him and take him to her own place across town, but that's when things started getting rocky between them. Personally, I think she said something that was insensitive and it hurt him, but knowing Paige, she was too proud to take it back because she probably meant it. And besides that… there was something else, but he won't tell me and neither will Paige." At Piper's look, she hastened to add, "Don't worry, they love each other to death, it's just… they don't really know how to act around each other."

When Piper continued to give her the look, Prue rolled her eyes and simply continued telling the story. "Okay, so Damien's getting Chris in trouble every chance he gets, Wyatt is getting him out of trouble every chance he gets, Chris is a complete wreck and doesn't give a damn what happens to him since his twin is gone… then he meets Paris and they click almost instantly. Phoebe and Paige can't do anything for him, and then Daryl is dragged into the whole mess because Chris has developed a habit of breaking and blowing up things, like cars and empty buildings and such. Daryl doesn't know that Chris is abused, so every time he arrests him, he brings him home and tells Piper, hence more problems. So… Paris and Wyatt are holding onto him and keeping him from going insane until he sinks into a depression. In this depression, he makes a comment around Daryl about his life and Daryl loves you and Leo so much he thinks Chris is just insane so Chris goes through some physiological tests which ends up getting him into a mental institution. That lasted about four mouths, then he was released into a military academy for his acting out issues… okay, that was when he was thirteen, he went to the nuthouse when he was twelve… And right about now he's taking his frustration out in the form of music and his band C4 starts up," Prue kept on rambling a hundred miles per hour. "He was happy outside of the manor, had friends and people who cared… That lasted for about another year before I think you and Leo decided he was getting too relaxed and the abuse started getting worse again… and, uh… I don't know why, but I get the feeling there was demonic influence because no matter how much you guys hurt him, he would never do this, but… he killed you, and it took Leo almost a year to come back. So…" her voice trailed off. She watched Victor and her nephew for a while, and Piper didn't want to press her. She had been speaking so quickly to shorten the summary up even more, but now she seemed to want to add something.

After a while, Prue sighed. "Okay, there's some stuff I left out because it wasn't really relevant until now… You see, you never told Dad that Chris was back. You told him that you'd given him up at birth, and never said anything about him returning… and Dad never found out because every time he came over-- which started to become often since he moved closer to us-- you or Leo would lock Chris up in the cellar beneath the basement. So… Paige, Phoebe, and Wyatt had gone out with Dad to a concert or something when… when it happened. They came back to find Chris in the middle of the wreckage, in total shock… and Piper's body. Paige, Phoebe, and Wyatt sort of exploded on him… wouldn't have anything to do with him... so once Dad found out who he was, and what had been happening… he took him in. But it wasn't five minutes later that the Elders found out and summoned him… After Jess's death, they had given him two charges to watch out for to try to cheer him up… but now they cast him down from grace with two curses… One was that I couldn't heal him when he was hurt… the other was that… whenever he slept, he would remember. Everything. They hated him that much…

"So when he was over at Dad's, he wouldn't, or couldn't, speak or eat… and he didn't sleep. That pissed the Elders off more, so they added a little clause that said he had to sleep at least once a week. Anyway, none of Dad and his wife taking him in was known (or official even), so the public thought he was dead or gone, and about a week later he was. He called me for the first time in those two weeks only to say that he had to disappear for a while, and he and Paris were gone. They were pronounced dead after seven months because the war was just about starting and people went missing a hell of a lot more often and always turned up dead."

Piper nodded, remembering seeing her son in that Arctic like place. It all made so much more sense now, what had upset the magical community, why he had had to disappear… But he actually had seemed happy there. Content. Why did he ever leave and come back to the US, where war was tearing apart the country and world, where he was paying for others' lives? Why weren't Paige and Phoebe doing that? They were older, they could take it.

"Why did he ever come back?" her voice asked, sounding strange to her own ears.

Prue took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out slowly. "Piper… the part after that is all guesswork for me. I think… I'm pretty sure he felt what was happening on some level because he had such a strong bond with… with the one doing all the evil. Once he had learned what he needed… I think he decided he was ready to help save the world. He just kind of went about it the wrong way, if he did what I think he did."

"And what do you think he did?" asked Piper, barely listening anymore. Her eyes had fallen on her son… the boy they were talking about that was sitting on the roof of a college castle and talking to the man he'd been silent around his entire stay with. They seemed to get along just fine, now. They weren't laughing, anymore, though. Just talking.

Prue's eyes wandered there, too. "I think he went straight to the Source to get him to stop. And I think the Source was still quite mad at him, but not enough to kill him, so he kept him there. I think Chris didn't like being locked up again, so he left to try a different tactic when the Source wasn't watching. I know for a fact he was the one who left the feathers--"

But suddenly her voice was cut off by something like a yelp of surprise coming from the place on the roof where their father and Chris were. The two whirled around to see Victor sitting alone, looking completely dumbfounded. Prue looked back to Piper, who raised her eyebrows in contemplation. They turned back and Prue called out, "Hey, Dad! What happened?"

Victor looked mildly surprised to see Prue there, but shouted back, all the same. "I don't know! We were just talking and he fell through the roof without leaving a hole or anything!"

Prue and Piper both had to suppress a laugh at this. Prue shook her head and turned back to her dad. "What did you do? That power is triggered by surprise."

Victor looked even more confused. "Falling through roofs is a power?" he said more to himself than anyone else. "Um… We were just talking about… stuff." He jumped abruptly, though, as flames appeared next to him. The fire morphed quickly into Chris, who flopped down, soaking wet.

"Sorry," the boy apologized tiredly, adjusting the sunglasses. "Just don't call me Christopher again."

"Why are you so wet?" demanded Victor, but not unkindly. He just looked lost.

Chris shot him a confused look. "What are you--? Oh! Underground spring below here," came the 'obvious' reply.

Victor continued to look at him, baffled. "You fell through all five stories and then some?"

Chris nodded absently. "Eh. Happens."

Prue gave Piper a look before taking her hand and orbing them in front of Victor and Chris. The latter didn't look remotely surprised to see them. Without a word, Prue took her charge's hand and pulled him easily to his feet, despite his noises of objection. "We're going to go work on your powers like we were supposed to do last night," she said brightly. "I think it's the final straw when you fall through an entire college beginning at the roof. And you've got _no _idea how to work the memory projections."

Chris looked affronted. "I do so!"

"Only when it concerns a few weeks ago," Prue returned, rolling her eyes. "I want you to be able to go back years easily."

Chris gave her a look from behind the shades. "Why would I want to remember years ago?" he deadpanned. Prue shot him a look in retaliation. She said something about that being beside the point. He retorted that that _was _the point.

It was Piper's turn to roll her eyes. She tuned out of her sister and son's argument and looked to her dad. "So, how are you today?"

He managed a tight smile. "Peachy."

Five minutes later the two were still going at it until Victor finally broke in, frustrated. "Jeez! You two are too alike for your own good! Neither of you is ever going to win this argument! Now Chris, just go with Prue and practice whatever power she want you to. She's only got your best interests at heart," he added, cutting Chris off before he could protest. "And Prue, go easy on him. He's had a rough day. Now off with you two!"

Chris glowered darkly at Prue, crossing his arms. "I hate you."

Prue beamed and threw an arm over his shoulder. "But I love you," she returned, laughing when he ducked out from under the one-armed embrace.

With that settled, the four scaled down the roof (since Chris refused to use any magic that wasn't in question, just to be difficult) and made it onto the balcony and into the college corridors. They bade goodnight to Victor, who was residing in the dormitory next to the future Phoebe's, and continued walking through the unlit hallways. Piper had no idea where they were heading, but she knew Prue didn't mind her coming to watch them practice, and as frustrated as Chris was with Prue, he wouldn't care if she didn't. They didn't get very far, however, before they heard raised voices wafting through the otherwise silent wing.

The three exchanged looks before Prue said, "That sounds like Paris…"

With a mutual understanding, they quickened their pace and within no time at all came face to face with the girl in question, who was looking furious and upset at the same time. Bianca was apparently trying to talk to her, but was looking pretty much 'eaten' and they could see Andre, Joden, and Duncan hurrying up the stairs to see what was the matter, too. "Chris!" Paris all but yelled, turning her attention away from a scandalized Bianca, then demanded, "What are you still doing out?"

"Oh-- I was just--" Chris managed, looking taken aback and somewhat frightened.

"Never mind," she cut him off angrily. "Get to bed, _both _of you!" she added furiously at Bianca.

"Yes, ma'am," Chris all but squeaked and he and Bianca headed off down the nearest corridor.

Prue and Piper's mouths fell open in shock.

"Paris, what--?" began Prue, wholly surprised by this show of anger from such a calm girl. Paris, however, cut her off with a sharp wave of a hand and stomped off, pushing past the remaining FU1 members, who were gathered on the stairwell, shocked.

For a moment, all Prue, Piper, Andre, Duncan, and Joden could do was gawk in her wake. None of them had ever seen her lose her temper. None of them had even realized it could be done. After another moment of silence, however, Joden broke it. "I'll go talk to her," he said softly and made his way back down the stairs after his girlfriend.

"Um…" said Andre, looking extremely wrong footed. "I don't think leaving Chris and Bianca alone is a good thing… I get the idea they might blow this place up if they get mad enough."

That snapped them back to the moment. Prue looked absolutely horrified at the thought, and the four sprinted off down the hall. They could already hear shouting, and it hadn't been more than two minutes since they'd all met up.

"Oh, you're so full of yourself!" Chris was yelling. "Like _you _had _anything _to do with that--!"

"_I'm _full of myself?" Bianca cut him off. "You're the one who reset time for one person! _One person! _What about the others, huh? Why didn't you reset time last night and stop Archwood from sending _all _those people through Bypass 34? Is your _one _friend worth more than _all 300 _of their lives--?"

"You have no idea what you're even talking about, Bianca! Like I had any choice in all that! Things just happen when it comes to magic! You should know that by n--!"

"_I_ should know that? Gawd, you are so _demented!_"

"I may be demented but at least I'm not a coldhearted bitch like you!"

"_What!_ Coldhearted? Me? Were you even listening?" Bianca screamed furiously as Prue, Piper, Andre, and Duncan rounded the corner. The two teens were yelling at each other in the middle of a hallway, both looking like homicide was not far off. They were standing dangerously close to each other.

"Why would I listen to _anything _you say?" Chris shot back angrily. "_I hate you!"_

"_Well_, _not as much as I hate you!" _Bianca yelled.

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!" Chris shouted, somewhere near at the top of his lungs.

"OH, SHUT UP, YOU ASS HOLE AND JUST KISS ME ALREADY!" Bianca screamed.

"MAKE ME, DUMB ASS!" Chris yelled back, and without further warning, the two seemed to be locked together by their lips; their arms were entwined around the other. The ones watching felt their jaws drop in astonishment, and their expressions didn't change even when the two teens, still making out passionately, fell to the ground, where each then proceeded to try to force the other on the bottom of their two-person stack without breaking contact with their lips.

Piper vaguely began to wonder how long they could keep that up without having to resurface for air when they suddenly broke apart, each looking just as furious with the other as they had moments before.

"Jeez," Bianca spat, getting to her feet heatedly. "I've had better kisses with five-year-olds."

Chris scoffed. "What the hell were you doing tonguing five-year-olds? Pervert, much?"

"Go screw yourself!"

"Oh, I know you want me to," came the smart mouthed retort, perfectly collected, now.

Bianca gave an exclamation of anger and exasperation. "You see? There you go again with that egocentric, pigheaded arrogance of yours!"

"Or maybe I'm just empathing it from you. Ever thought of that?" Again, the reply was calm, but this time with a twinge of weariness.

Bianca opened her mouth for another comeback but stopped short. She gave him the once-over and frowned. "You really are tired, aren't you?"

Chris opened his mouth but he, too, stopped short. He looked away briefly and seemed to be trying to regulate his breathing. At length, his voice replied hesitantly, "I… yeah. I guess I am…" His eyes flashed back up to meet hers from behind the sunglasses for less than a moment before shifting away again. There was silence as Bianca's eyes moved over him with an unprecedented expression within their depths. It was something like sympathy… Something like sadness and unsought understanding.

"…I gotta go," Chris said softly, not wanting to be the object of such a gaze, and he moved through and past his assembled team and family (who were still so shocked they couldn't move) with a quiet, "Excuse me." and nothing more.

Then he was gone, and the ones left in his wake began to stir as if from a dream. Their eyes turned to Bianca, who still hadn't moved, or spoken.

Before they could demand anything from her (verification of sanity, perhaps), the girl shimmered away.

* * *

**A/N: Heya, people! Ok, since this is so far away from my original plan, now, I need another poll. How many people want Chris to meet the Piper and/or Leo from the past without their disguises in place? PS, I took out the chapter about Damien, so that's why it may look like I haven't updated.**


	23. Darth Vader was Framed

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Don't like (u).**

**A/N: WARNING: This chapter contains mention of forced sodomy, so if you're sensitive about reading that type of thing, email me and I'll send you back an edited version (Which means I'll just erase those few sentences and make the story where it still flows without them). "And that's all I got to say about that." ((--Forest Gump))**

* * *

Chris and his faithful steed… I mean, winged talking camel with a degree in psychology, bifocals, and fancy Irish accent, followed Damien Halliwell, teenager of 19, up the wooden steps silently. Neither liked staying in the dungeons, and only Damien knew the way out, or in any other circumstance Chris would have whole heartedly objected to teaming up with this brother. Damien and he were not known for their abilities to get along.

Luckily, however, they made it out of the Source's headquarters without killing each other and were soon on the war-worn streets of San Francisco. The sight of rumble sided cracked streets and acrid stench of burning and rotting flesh had long since held any sway over Chris' emotions. Now, it just _was_. There was nothing he could do to challenge the Source to change it anymore. Nothing he could say or do would change it now… _unless I succeed in changing the past_. A little voice added in the back of his mind, somehow making him feel worse.

Why did the fate of the world and the lives of hundreds always have to fall directly on his shoulders? He was still just a freakin' kid! He should be just _helping _the war effort, not _leading _it. Well, the war was actually kind of over… Yeah, good had gotten its collective ass kicked. Badly.

"Yeah, it does stink," said Damien with a drawn look, misinterpreting Chris' shudder. Or… Chris really couldn't tell if Damien was misinterpreting it or just playing dumb. He knew his second to oldest brother, and that particular brother was actually 'scary smart' to put in Joden's words. Chris sometimes doubted whether Wyatt knew that properly or not. He always seemed to underestimate Damien's position… and power. And intelligence.

Darn. Now that he thought about it, Chris realized Wyatt underestimated his second brother even more than his baby brother. And Wyatt was always underestimating Chris.

"You've got to talk to him about investing in air fresheners or something," Chris muttered instead, as a reply. Damien threw him a sideways glance at that. Clearly he hadn't been expecting such deadpan-sarcasm in a situation like this, from a brother like that. There should have at least been a bit more bite to it…

Chris raised his eyebrows, disconcerted by the look but hiding it by taking the offense. "Yes?" he demanded coldly.

Damien continued to give him that look with his penetrating grey eyes, but now there was a hint of amusement in it. "…"

He looked away, smiling slightly. Chris was hard put not to gape. Damien really did enjoy having him around, if only just to have someone to have a civilized fight with. That was _messed up!_

"So where we you planning on taking me?" Chris asked at last as they passed the remains of what was once P3. It had been one of the first refuges for innocents set up by Paige and Phoebe, but had also been the first to go down. Chris felt no great emotional ties to the place… It was just another nightclub that had gone done without much of a fight. He'd still never heard the whole story of how it fell in the first place… That had been during the time he'd been captured by the Source and too engrossed in other problems to fret over one that had nothing to do with his immediate concerns.

Damien raised an eyebrow, casting his little brother another sidelong look. "Hmm… you really don't know…? I should think you would, seeing as it's your idea I'm going by."

Chris' eyes went wide at that. Uh-oh. "What idea?" he managed to voice at last.

A wicked grin. "Oh, just one you had last year--- _Just kidding!_" he added hurriedly as Chris jumped backwards, horrified. He laughed, shaking his head.

"Dude, that's not funny! Gawd, you asshole!" Chris spluttered at first, but ended near a rage. "_That is so not cool!_ How could you think that was funny? That was _evil!_"

Damien rolled his eyes, pushing his dark curls out of his face as he did so. "_Anyway_, as I was about to say before you freaked, how were you planning to get back to the past? Through the manor, again?"

Chris stared at him, completely taken aback. "Wait-- you want to help me get back _to the past?_"

"That's the plan, Smart One," came the 'duh' reply.

Chris couldn't stop staring at him. This was not, repeat: _Not _the Damien he knew. The Damien he knew might, _might _help him out of the Source's base if he was feeling extremely generous, but he would never, repeat: _Never _help him get back to the past if it had made Wyatt as mad as he'd said. Nobody liked to piss Wyatt off. Not even his brothers. "_Why?_" was all he managed to force out through the racing thoughts in his mind.

Damien tilted another look at him. "Why not?"

Chris' mouth really did fall open at that. "_What the heck happened to you?_"

Of all the things he'd been expecting to change when he came back, he'd never anticipated changing _Damien_. Damien was… well… _Damien_. There was no other words in the human, or Elder language to describe him.

Damien didn't even look at him. "Come on," he said quietly. "Probes have been swamping this place since you pulled your last stunt. They've probably already sensed our presence, so the sooner we get out of the open, the better."

Chris continued watching Damien for more than a little while, all the thoughts running through his mind stopped dead in their tracks. After a moment, however, something seemed to click within him and he lengthened his stride to catch up. Whatever had happened… Damien wasn't going to tell him willingly. They'd never had an open relationship, anyway, so he wasn't surprised.

They were coming up on Prescott Street, where Chris could clearly see the only standing houses within sight, including the Halliwell Manor Museum, as he called it subconsciously. He had no idea what it was really called. They could also see quite clearly the metal, hovering probes that patrolled the perimeter of the house.

The two brothers shared a look, and for one of the only times in history, they were both thinking the same thing. In perfect sync, they raised an arm and flung it roughly to the right, sending all fifteen probes crashing mercilessly into the hard wooden fence that separated the manor from the neighbors. None survived.

The two shared another look, both appearing highly amused, though trying to mask it. "Nicely done," commented Chris with pseudo-indifference.

"Not bad, yourself," came the much better nonchalant reply. Chris had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Now let's pick up our feet and stop playing around here," continued Damien, serious again. "He'll sense their absence and know exactly what it means."

Chris understood. He and Bianca had joined the tour group for a reason. Nobody cared about a demon disappearing, no matter where he was stationed. Destroying a probe, though… that was another matter completely….

Damien and Chris rushed forward, picked the magical lock, and slipped inside. No tour. It was Sunday. There weren't even guards, as they'd expected would meet them at the front door.

"You have the spell?" asked Damien, strolling over to the pantry and pulling out a bag of Oreos. He opened it and pulled one out, popping it into his mouth. Not even a moment later, however, he spat it out with a disgusted look on his countenance. "Ugh! Plastic! He's too cheap to even supply real _cookies! _Damn him!"

Chris gave him a look. "…Okay… Anyway… yeah, I've got it. We just need to get to the attic and draw the triquetta."

"Alright then."

Five minutes later, Christopher and Damien Halliwell could be found in the attic, Damien drawing the design and Chris writing down the spell from memory. It should all stay the same so long as he just _thought _of the time his charges were presently in as he said the spell. And the two were holding a very… _interesting _conversation.

"No, really," Chris almost laughed, holding up his hands as if to prove he wasn't crossing his fingers. "If you died I would get very choked up. Honestly! There might actually be tears."

Damien rolled his eyes, turning around to face Chris and pausing in his 'art project'. "You are one mean mother, you know that, Christopher? And people say I was always the evil one." He shook his head and turned back to the chalk drawing. "But imagine all the times I've tried to kill you. Now I really don't know if I'd care if you were gone forever."

Chris rolled his eyes, again portraying the family similarities. "But you never really thought you'd succeed in killing me. I mean, you tried but you weren't really expecting it to get anywhere." When Damien gave him a look over his shoulder, Chris returned it easily. "Hey, dude, you're talking to an empath, here. I _know_."

Damien sighed. "Yeah… that might explain why you're not dead. I mean, I had every Halliwell power at my disposal and you're still standing…"

"I knew it!" Chris exclaimed suddenly, jabbing a fist into the air triumphantly. "You have the power of copying! And you so _lied _to me when I figured it out--!"

"No way! Stop the presses!" Damien gasped in mock shock. "Damien lied to Christopher! My God, Armageddon is here!"

Chris glowered darkly. "Smart ass."

Damien shot him a smug look. "What can I say? It runs in the family."

Chris crossed his arms, but shot a cold, cheerful smirk at his brother in a way only Chris could pull off. "Done drawing?"

"Yeah…" said Damien, getting the hint to drop it and adding one last touch to the triquetta. He stood back, dusting the chalk off his hands listlessly. "So what year will you be going to, exactly?"

Chris opened his mouth to reply, but someone else's voice said, "Just this one, if I have anything to do with it."

Chris didn't need to turn around, and neither did Damien. "Hello, Wyatt," the two younger brothers murmured in unison. At length, Chris turned himself so that he faced the brother he'd spent his childhood relying on as a small kid would rely on its mother. Now that relationship had been busted beyond belief.

"Christopher," Wyatt said, his cold eyes turning turquoise and examining his baby brother without expression. His hands were clasped casually behind his back. For once he was in human clothes, even if they were still all black.

Chris didn't flinch underneath the quietly hostile gaze. Even though he'd been under it enough to know that whatever was coming was going to be an almost literal Hell, he couldn't bring himself to show any form of submission. "You, I could expect," Wyatt said softly, danger edging his voice like the thin, yet sharp tip of a knife. "But you, Damien…" His gaze fell on the not so young brother.

At last Damien turned to face Wyatt, and Chris could see his steel eyes harden coldly. There was a quiet passion about him that frankly unnerved Chris. "Really, Wyatt? Don't tell me with all the shit you do to me you never saw this coming. Don't even try to say it." The look Damien was giving Wyatt could have turned the most rampant forest fire into an Antarctica look-alike and melted it into steam at the same time.

Wyatt crossed the room and even the air seemed to part for him. Without a word, he took Damien by the chin and tilted his face up to look at him, eyes harder than stone, now. "Do. Not. Tell. Me. What. To. Do."

Damien's eyes narrowed and he hissed in a mocking, scathing voice, "Yes, _master_."

For a moment, it looked as though Wyatt was livid with fury, but that only lasted a fraction of a second before it was replaced with a look of cold amusement. "If any other person, Damien, said that to me in that voice, I'd kill them on the spot."

Damien put on a tearful expression and a hand over his heart. In complete mockery, he said tearfully, "Oh my, Wyatt. I never knew you cared so much. I can just feel the love right here," he said, patting his hand over his heart as he continued to give Wyatt the feigned love-y eyes.

That really pissed Wyatt off, if nothing else had. Without warning, he threw out his hand, sending Damien flying across the room and crashing through the grandfather clock that had been moved to the attic only a year ago.

That snapped Chris out of the daze he'd been in. With one movement, he sent Wyatt crashing into the ingredient shelves and whirled around in time to see Damien getting to his feet with that same feline grace he'd always had, grey eyes impassive.

"Chris, that was probably the stupidest thing you've done since you put Nair in my shampoo," came the dry comment as Wyatt began to stir. "You pissed off the Source. Nice job."

Chris rolled his eyes. Putting Nair in Damien's shampoo had been funny as everything, but the torment for the next several weeks he had gotten in retaliation had been… well, let's just say he'd rather not think about it at the moment.

Sure enough, the next thing the two younger brothers knew, Wyatt was on his feet, the entire house shaking as it tried to contain his fury. And before either could so much as blink, they were being thrown violently across the attic and literally crashing through the wooden floor.

Chris bemusedly cursed the unpredictability of his intangibility as he weakly lifted himself up from the living room sofa he'd broken, falling onto. Every inch of his body ached from the fall, if one would even call it that. He had to lift long, busted ply wood off himself as he struggled to his feet, but as soon as he was standing, the floor met the ceiling.

He groaned from beneath the glass table he'd rolled under during his second fall and didn't even try to get up again, this time. From somewhere to his right, he heard Damien swearing vehemently. Closing his eyes and trying to stop the dull throbbing pain, Chris asked, "You still alive, then?"

"Nah, duh, Sherlock," came the strained reply. He swore violently again and for a moment, Chris could feel waves of severe pain radiate from his brother. Frowning, he tried to focus it, and because of very developed empathy, could. A piece of broken floorboard had gone through Damien's shoulder. Chris winced. He could relate through experience as well as through empathy. "And, of course, Chris is generally unscathed," Damien remarked, again in a dry voice. Chris felt slightly indignant as he felt Damien using his copying power to copy his empathy, but then had to wonder how many times he'd copied him before… this was actually the first time he'd been able to feel it…

He cut his musings short, however, as he heard footsteps on the stairs. Of course Wyatt would go for the theatric, slow and deliberate way down the stairs, even though they all knew good and well that he could just orb or flame or something. More intimidating, perhaps. Chris forced himself to open his eyes and prepared to roll out from under the glass table, but found himself weaker than he'd thought. For a moment, he felt a violent wave of disgust seize him: Staying in the past had made him soft! Jeez…

But that moment cost him dearly, for the next thing he knew, Wyatt had flicked his fingers and the table above him busted violently into dozens of piercing knife-like pieces. Chris found himself unable to stop the cry of pain that escaped his lips as multiple shards sliced through his chest and stomach, cutting his face and neck as well.

For a split second, he knew nothing but the hot, crimson blood that flowed freely into his vision from the gashes on his face; he knew nothing but the agony of the impalements in his upper body that sent white-hot bolts of pain ricocheting throughout his entire being. For a moment, he knew nothing but the darkness that faded his sight to black.

Chris opened his eyes groggily and wondered in the back of his mind why he was lying on the floor in sticky reddish brown stuff in the… attic. Yes, his vision was beginning to come back, and he was in the attic at his old house… But did that mean… was he back in the past with the sisters as his charges? Or… how old was he? Was he back with his real family with Wyatt and Damien and Jess and… and his mother?

"Wow, being in the past has made you soft, Christopher," drawled a dark voice quietly. He knew that voice, and it wasn't from any of the above. He was eighteen. He was in the same attic he'd fallen through the floor of not so long ago. He was in the presence of the Source of all Evil with his now-strange brother, Damien. "Not even--what?-- twelve, maybe thirteen little cuts and you pass out. Tut-tut. Your endurance level has gone way down… We'll have to do something about that… Won't we?"

Now that he was mostly coherent, Chris looked around himself. He was trapped in a crystal cage in the attic with Wyatt leaning on the sofa in front of him, watching him impassively. Chris himself was… not well off. The glass blades had been taken out of him, but the deep, deep wounds remained. Well over a handful, and they were all bleeding profusely. Judging from the amount of blood puddled around him, he supposed they had been pouring consistently for some time.

Biting back a cry of pain, Chris sat up, closing his eyes once more. The aches from crashing through the floor were not forgotten, either. "We won't do anything about it, Wyatt." He said coldly to cover the strain of using his vocal cords. He was pretty sure the deepest cut in his throat was around them…

"On the contrary," remarked Wyatt conversationally. "I can't be known to have a weak, traitor of a brother, can I? No, that won't do at all…"

Chris squeezed his eyes shut tighter, now biting his bottom lip to stop the pain. It was only intensifying as time passed, not dulling to numbness as it usually did. Usually. Huh. It was wrong that he should even know what 'usually' was, but then again, 'usually' was his life… How unfortunate, as Phoebe once put it, being blunt…

He didn't bother to open his eyes when he felt someone shimmer in, but when he heard Bianca's voice, they snapped open.

"Wyatt! What the hell did you do to him?" There was fear and anger alike in her voice, and she looked both, too. "Wyatt, you promised me when he came back that you wouldn't hurt him! So what the hell is this?"

"I lied," came the easy response. The Source leaned forward and kissed Bianca on the cheek. "I thought you were taking care of Damien?"

Bianca's expression at him being so close to her was such a forced indifference she almost couldn't pull it off. "… I gave the order…" she all but whispered, eyes glued on Chris, and Chris could almost see how she was itching to help him. Or at least give him an aspirin. Either way he'd be grateful for at the moment. "Wyatt, why do you do that to him…? He's been more of a brother and more cooperative than Chris…" She was just keeping up the conversation to disguise her concern over her ex-fiancé, he knew.

A slow smile came across the Source's face. A twisted smile that Chris had only seen once or twice before, but had never figured out exactly what signified. "Yes, well… it's the only punishment that gets through to him. Just be glad it's not me in the bed with him, this time…"

At that, Chris was too slow to stop with sound of horror and disgust that escaped his lips, or the look that went with it that crossed his face. Wyatt tilted an eyebrow at him, amused. "I see Christopher doesn't approve of that method, either," he smirked. "But I have noticed that forced sodomy is very effective… and also leaves him extremely emotionally scarred… which makes him so much the more interesting…"

At _that_, Chris almost threw up. Rape by another gender was bad enough… but _sodomy_… Chris had never before felt so bad for Damien as he did now. _Well_, said the ever-ironic voice in his head, _now you know why he's so different. Who wouldn't be if they have to deal with that kind of a threat… kind of a past, hovering about them everywhere they went?_ Chris told the voice to shut up; he had other pressing things to worry about… like bleeding to death. Or watching Wyatt tongue Bianca. That would be just as ill a fate as death. More gross than death, though…

H glanced up with the least amount of a grimace he could handle and saw that Wyatt was looking at him curiously, as though trying to read his mind. Chris had no idea what to think about that, but his mouth said bitterly, "I think you know you can't do that anymore. Don't even waste your time trying."

The Source smiled at that, but in a regretful way this time. "Yes… shame you had to sever that link when you went crazy last year. I never would have killed everybody if I knew you would react like that… Too late to change that now, though, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose so," came the curt response. The blood loss was really starting to get to him, now… The floor was beginning to rock, as though it were sitting on the ocean and pretending to be a boat or some drift wood or something. He was never really fond of boats… He supposed it came with the whole 'my parents tried to drown me when I was a small child' thing, but maybe he wouldn't have even liked them before that. Who knew? It could be like the-- Chris! My God, are you stoned or something? Why are you thinking about why you don't like modes of water transportation? Jeez, boy, get back on the tracks here! Do you _want _to stay here in this time period forever? No? THEN GET IT TOGETHER! Good grief…

"You do?" said Wyatt, sounding genuinely surprised. "Honestly… that time I expected you to say something smart about pulling that little time traveling stunt you did.…Which, by the way," he added, looking up from his fingernails, which he'd been examining, "I had planned on letting you off easy. But now with this…" He gestured helplessly, but Chris could see that he was enjoying every second of it. "Sorry, Christopher, but I can't let this slip by, too. You're going to have to pay double, now."

Chris stared at him, unable to believe this was happening. Not so long ago, the biggest problem he'd had to deal with was trying to get the sisters to put their personal lives on hold for just five minutes to vanquish some measly Power of Three demon… now he was dealing with a pissed off Wyatt, already suffering from the dozen stab wounds all over his upper torso? No way… He didn't believe it.

Wyatt's game-like face, however, had vanished, and was replaced with one of utter seriousness. He got up from leaning against the couch to kneel down in front of his little brother, eyes cold and black once more. Chris involuntarily felt fear prickle in his chest. This was not, not, not, not, _not _good. This was so not good, it was _very bad_. And he and the silent Bianca both knew it. Wyatt… Wyatt was having fun, but he was also dead serious. Never good…

"Christopher… do you recall why you went insane last year, perchance?"

...Chris felt as though the floor had completely given out beneath him.


	24. Surprise

**Disclaimer: Is this really necessary after, like, twenty chapters? I'm sure my wonderful readers have enough common sense to conclude that if I didn't own Charmed the first chapter and the last chapter, that I STILL don't own it now. I mean, _really_.**

**A/N: I know the scene I narrated was a little different than in the show but I don't really see that it matters. Just so ya know and won't feel the need to 'inform' my of my 'mistake'.**

* * *

"Chris!" Prue called, the first one to snap out of the shocked trance-like state they'd all found themselves in. She instantly started after him, Piper hot on her heels. The rest of the FU team (being Duncan and Andre), however, took several more moments to blink and try to figure out what had just happened.

"Chris!" Prue cried out again, minutes later, unable to see anything in the darkness of the nighttime corridors. Piper came to a panting halt beside her. Both were out of breath after chasing the silent, quick teenager for what felt like hours. He wasn't too far ahead of them, they knew, but he wasn't stopping or responding, either. And he wouldn't orb or flame for risk of alerting other (evil) magical beings to the location of the safe house.

Piper stood up straighter, breath caught at last. Her dark eyes scanned the pitch black halls again, but knew they wouldn't find anything new. He was just too fast. Too quiet. Taking the sister's stop into account, he was probably across the building from them now. "Prue… this is no use. Does he always run when someone wants to _really talk _to him?"

"Pretty mu--AHH!" the older sister ended in a surprised scream as a hand came out of nowhere and clasped firmly over her mouth, effectively muffling the scream.

The two spun around only to find the boy in question removing his hand from his aunt's mouth, mask of indifference in place. "I do not always run from a talk, Prudence," he said tonelessly, seeming to look at some point in the distance. They couldn't tell because of the sunglasses and darkness.

Prue shot him a look that spoke of sudden death while Piper just stared. There had been absolutely no trace of him seconds before. He had been in front of them, so how was he suddenly behind them without them seeing him, or him orbing/flaming? _Hm_, she mused at length, _I guess he's just good_. It was actually kind of scary.

"You do, too, Christopher," Prue shot back, albeit gently. Her eyes swept over him briefly. "Are you okay? Just tired?"

"Mmm," was all the reply she got. His attention was still elsewhere.

Prue wasn't too put off, however. She'd known him for way too long than to have expected a coherent answer concerning feelings. Maybe when he was younger… but not anymore. Not since he'd killed Piper and been cast down from grace. "So… you want to go find that spare room we were talking about earlier and practice?" she asked, deciding to give him a minute or two before laying into him about what was going on in his head, making out with his ex-assassin.

His head barely moved as he nodded absently. Prue shot Piper a look over her shoulder, seeming to invite her to come along. Piper instantly understood and nodded, much more vigorously than her son had.

"Come on," Prue said, taking Chris by the hand and pulling him along. He didn't object, but allowed himself to be led down the staircase and through more hallways until they reached an empty classroom. Piper shut the door behind them and flipped on the lights. As most college classrooms were, this room was large and had more than enough room to practice in.

Chris and Prue moved to the center of the room, Prue telekinetically sending the desks moving gracefully into a corner, while Piper sat down a little way away. She still felt like she was intruding. Or maybe it was just her curtain of guilt that kept finding its way between them. Either way, she didn't want to push her presence on the teenager. Her conscience just wouldn't allow it.

"Okay, Chris," began Prue, eyes suddenly twinkling mischievously. She started circling her charge, inciting a suppressed grin from him automatically and Prue knew it. "Let's forget your intangibility for a while. There's not really anything I can tell you about that except don't act so surprised. Let's see how good your retro-cognitive astral projection is. Show me something from… three weeks ago."

"Three weeks?" repeated Chris, and the two women could feel how he was changing the atmosphere subtly from an awkward one into a comfortable one with his halfway suppressed easy smile. "Random, much?"

Prue shot him a look, suppressing her grin much better. She crossed her arms in a no-nonsense manner, though her eyes were still twinkling. "I know you can do two weeks because that when Cheese happened. Just one more week."

"So you _do _spy on me." But he already had taken on a thoughtful presence, trying to think of something from three weeks ago. "Hmm… Ah. Here we go."

He flicked his fingers much like Piper did to blow thing up, but instead of everyone having to duck, the small 3-D movie-like thing appeared.

_Chris was in a forest of some sort with his FU team. They were picking their way through the hanging vines and branches when suddenly a Valkyrie jumped down from a tree, holding a knife to Joden's throat threateningly. _

"_Who are you? How did you get here?" she demanded, not removing the blade from the young man's throat. _

_The Chris from the memory looked intrigued by the woman. He smiled and said smoothly, "We need your help concerning the Final Battle."_

"Okay, that's good," Prue said, cutting the moment short. Chris flicked his fingers again and the images disappeared. "Now try from a year ago."

"A year ago…" came Chris' almost hesitant remark. "…Nothing good happened a year ago."

The good feeling they'd all started to become aware of was abruptly gone. Piper and Prue could hear the reluctance in his voice, and the two shortly realized where it must be coming from. About a year ago, he'd been in Wyatt's captivity. About a year ago, Wyatt had been pressuring him to 'join the dark side' basically. About a year ago, he'd been tortured almost constantly because he wouldn't succumb to that pressure. Nothing good had happened a year ago.

But… Piper could hear something else in his voice besides hesitancy and she felt her heart sink, unable to believe he would be thinking such a thing. And she somehow felt it was her fault, too. Closing her eyes, the woman took a deep breath, forcing the calm back. After a moment, she reopened them and they were glittering with tears. She looked to Chris, who wasn't exactly making eye contact with either her or her sister.

"Chris…" She said softly, drawing his attention to her. For a second, she stopped and didn't want to continue. This was her son. And he was feeling… "Chris, there's nothing to be embarrassed about," her mouth didn't even think about quitting this speech for a second. "Both me and Prue have been tortured for not abandoning our beliefs. We've both been burned. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You didn't let him get to you. That's something to be _proud _of, if anything, not embarrassed. _You did nothing wrong_."

For a moment Prue gaped. Even though she knew this was her sister from the past, the innocent one, it still felt so weird seeing those words coming out of that mouth to this boy. It had been such a long time… And she had to admit, she hadn't even thought for a second he was embarrassed about being hurt. It happened so often… She had just overlooked his feelings concerning the all-too-familiar physical pain.

"… But it's my fault he turned in the first place… I pushed him over the edge when I… I killed our mother…" Chris whispered, not so much to her as to himself. "It's my fault Wyatt… Wyatt hurt me. I ruined his life…"

Piper opened her mouth to deny everything he'd said and comfort him again when the impact of what he'd just said hit her. Wyatt. Evil. Hurt Chris. Evil. Wyatt was evil. The Source. That hurt her baby. Source of all Evil.

Her eyes went wide and her mouth came open. Prue didn't understand why she was having this reaction when she was also hit, but by another fact. She hadn't told Piper about her firstborn being the Source. Of all the things to forget! But right now her nephew needed her more. He had been harboring that guilt all along, she now realized.

"Chris, it was not your fault!" Prue said in a voice written in stone. "He surprised all of us when he turned. You know better than anyone how strong he was, and you know that one single event would never be enough to turn his morals so completely. He had to have had some amount of darkness in him from the very start, before you were even born, to end this badly. There's no way you can hold yourself responsible for that, Chris. _No way_."

Her eyes shot over to Piper to see how she was faring now. Actually, the younger woman wasn't too bad off. Prue supposed after having learned everything she just had, nothing would surprise her now. First, Chris was her son, then she had abused the hell out of him, so why should she be surprised Wyatt was evil? After all, didn't things always happen in threes? She was sure there was some quote or another about that…

But for Piper, it still hurt. It hurt badly. Everything was threatening to overwhelm her again, even as she thought she was getting a handle on it.

"Piper…?" Prue said carefully, watching her sister, sensing the new shift. Then… _whoops_.

"_What?" _Chris' voice cut through her thoughts like a knife and she immediately realized her mistake. She inwardly let out a stream of swearwords.

She opened her mouth, mind blank, but didn't have time to reply before the door flew open and Leo stood in the doorway (in his glamoured state, remember). "Honey, what's wrong? You scared me to death when I felt your pain! What is it?" The man choked, breathless from running all the way down. He'd at least had the courtesy not to orb in this secret place.

Piper turned to her husband in something like a trance. She had no idea that her cover had just been practically blown wide open. Prue doubted, judging by Piper's countenance, that she even knew where she was. "Leo… Oh God, Leo…" the wife's soft response came slowly. Her feet moved her forward until she was in Leo's arms, burying her face in his shoulder and letting the tears fall anew.

Chris was backing away slowly, haunted green eyes wide open in shock behind the sunglasses. From his expression, Prue couldn't decide if the walls were closing in on him, or if the floor was collapsing beneath his feet. Maybe it was both. "Chris…" she tried softly but firmly, hoping to call his attention to her instead. But he was already losing control of his thoughts, his mind. He was already unintentionally drowning himself in the past. His mind was pulling him under. "Chris!" she shouted now, recognizing what was happening and praying that she could bring him back out again. "Chris, listen to me--"

"Is it-- is it r-really them, Prue?" he asked shakily. He wasn't as far gone as she'd thought, but if her mouth answered, he would be soon.

Her mouth answered. "It's Piper and Leo from the past, Chris, before you were born. They don't even know you yet-- Chris!" She added sharply as he shook his head, taking the denial route. She reached out, without thinking, to take his arm. Big mistake.

On pure reflex, he threw out his hand to push it away, inadvertently sending a massive wave of telekinesis at her. Prue was sent clear off her feet where she crashed into the wall, the wave of telekinesis wrapping around the room as she did. He couldn't control it anymore. At once, his magic swept into his parents, throwing them backwards, too. But something happened, and somehow the telekinesis reflected back to him, bringing with it a memory from Piper and Leo.

The usually small 3-D image now filled the entire room, making the characters life-sized.

_It was in Piper's bedroom and showed the woman sitting up slightly, obviously pregnant. She was looking at the Leo that stood in the doorway with a false cheery smile. He was looking back at her with the obvious cover-up-guiltiness grin. _

"_Hi. I may be stuck in bed, but I'm not stuck on stupid," she said brightly. "I know that something's going on."_

_Leo shifted nervously but didn't drop the false smile. "Well, you wanted a doctor and she told you to relax, so… relax." The man chuckled to 'disguise' his nervousness. _

"_Mm, how can I relax when I know that you're hiding something from me? All the strange noises and weird behavior. Why don't you just tell me what's going on?" _

"_Okay, uh, well, it's really nothing to worry about. Magic has disappeared from the world and Phoebe and Paige went to a summit meeting with evil so they can fix it. See? Nothing to worry about." Again he laughed slightly, so nervous he was practically sweating._

_Piper stared at him. "I see. Okay, I'm not gonna get upset about this. _I am just gonna blow you to pieces_." She flicked her fingers, trying to blow him up but nothing happened. Her eyes clouded over, widening minutely._

"_See, I tried to tell you," said Leo, smile not quite as large as it was a second ago._

_Piper's eyes widened noticeably now. She looked winded. "Oh, no."_

"_Listen, I-I'm sure it's nothing," Leo tried to say convincingly. "Phoebe and Paige--"_

"_Leo, no," Piper said, eyes rising to meet his own. She said with infinite clarity, "My water just broke."_

Prue struggled back to her feet, along with Piper and Leo. With a faint sigh, she knew it was over so she muttered a spell to take away the glamour, but was surprised to find that Chris had been glamouring as well. As soon as Piper and Leo's false appearances fell away, his did too. He had a dark bruise across his face from where Future Leo had struck him during their brief earlier encounter. There was a gash in his shoulder from where that same Leo had pushed him into Piper's line of fire, another gash on his other cheek from the fight with Damien the night before, and he had even more white hair than she remembered… But he didn't seem to even notice. His body was visibly quaking… he was shaking his head… backing away… He already knew who the previously disguised ones were and he was panicking.

Prue watched her charge with mounting anguish. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't get near to him without scaring him to death or getting knocked on her butt again. But she couldn't just watch him lose himself. Already, he was retreating into himself, going into his own world where she wouldn't be able to help him. She wouldn't be able to reach him at all in twenty seconds, flat, unless she got to him now.

Without a further thought, she rushed to the boy who had found his way to a corner and forced his hand in hers. Regretting it deeply, she found his fingers with her own and squeezed them. Hard. "Chris, baby, focus. Don't go. Focus on this, baby. Focus on this pain. This pain is real, and you don't want to go away from it. Don't go. Stay here. Focus on this. This is real. _Focus, Chris_. Please, baby," she added softly. He was shaking, hardly breathing. His eyes, she knew, were haunted. Haunted and lost. He was so lost in his own world. He was losing his view on reality. "Chris… this pain is real. My voice is real. Focus on it, on them. _Focus, sweetheart_."

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, and she didn't care. Whatever it took. Piper and Leo had found their own way back to the moment and were now hovering somewhere behind her, uncertain about what to do. She didn't really want them to leave for some reason. She wanted them to see what they had done-- were going to do-- to their baby. Or, their _son _and _her _baby. She wanted to see how screwed up he was because of them.

After what felt like hours, Chris stopped shaking and started breathing again. And after some more 'felt-like-hours', she decided he was stable enough to speak. "Hey, honey. You scared me. You back, now?"

Chris didn't nod, but she felt his attention turn to the ones behind her. "Prue…" he said in a soft, quavering voice.

Prue closed her eyes. She didn't know how she could explain it to him in a way he would like. She knew it wasn't _that _complicated, but still…

Leo knelt down beside her and Piper followed suit. Prue silently scolded them for this act of stupidity. They had made her baby flinch back so far he seemed to want to become the wall behind him.

"Chris," Leo began in a gentle tone, holding his hands out, palms up, in front of him so Chris could see them. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you. Neither is Piper. We're not even the Leo and Piper you grew up with. We're from the year 2004. You see, Piper and Phoebe and Paige cast a spell so we could come to this time period to get something we couldn't get in the past. …We had no idea… you… what we did to… that we're your…" His voice trailed off, eyes welling up. He couldn't finish any of the sentences, but they got the point anyway, and they hoped Chris did, too. But Chris didn't visibly react.

And, for the second time that night, Piper sensed something no one else was able to sense. "Chris, I promise you we're not lying. We really are from the past and we would never_ dream _of hurting you. And… I want… _we _want to… to tell you… we're going to change what… what happened to you, this time around. We won't let that happen again. We're not going to hurt you, _ever_. Okay?"

Prue had to compliment Leo's method and Piper's word choice. They really wanted to change what they did to him. Chris had to be able to see that, too. He _had _to.

But Chris didn't move, besides to try the wall again. His intangibility wasn't working, apparently. Prue felt how trapped he was feeling. She felt how afraid he still was and it all broke her heart. What was she thinking? She had to get Piper and Leo out of there! He wasn't ready to face them. Not after that afternoon. Not after what his Leo had just done to him. Of course he was reacting like this.

"Piper, Leo," she hinted pointedly, starting to get up. Piper hesitated at first, but deciding she would give her son his space, she got up too and waited for Leo without speaking.

Leo sighed quietly, feeling Prue's heated stare, Piper's uneasy gaze, and Chris' trepidation all at once. He knew he had to go, but… Without a word, he reached toward Chris, pausing for a split second as the boy flinched, tensing himself, but didn't stop again until his hand was hovering over Chris' cheek. He healed the bruise, then Damien's cut on the other cheek, then the gash on his shoulder, then the bruise he knew was on the child's stomach from where his future self had kicked him backwards.

He offered his future son a soft smile and stood, leading Piper out of the room. There was silence in their wake. Chris was too shocked and confused to even move, and Prue was too lost in thought to speak.

However, time passed and they gradually came out of their self-induced stupors. Then there was silence again, but a tense one.

At last, Chris voiced shakily, "Prue… why… why did he…" Pause. Swallow. "Why did Leo h-heal me?"

"Because that Leo is still a good person. Remember, I told you they weren't always… like… like _that_," Prue responded softly, 'that' meaning 'abusive'. Her breathing was regulating itself finally, and she hadn't realized she'd been holding it the entire time Leo had been healing her nephew.

There was another pause and Chris slowly got to his feet, steadying himself with the wall as he did so. All this time, he'd been around both his parents without realizing it. And they hadn't been, well, _mean _to him. They acted… like normal people. But, then… "Are Naomi and Gabrielle Phoebe and Paige from their time?"

Prue nodded, watching him. The teen was silent, now, face turned towards the floor, lost in contemplation. He wasn't drowning himself in emotions like before, but merely _feeling_. And thinking. She had known that when this moment came, he wouldn't understand fully. She'd known he'd be confused. She had told him about how his parents used to be, but she had never been able to talk for long because she could see that it hurt him. She could see that, when she told him how good his parents were, he felt like them hurting him was his fault. After all, if good people hurt you, they had to be doing the right thing, right?

She knew that wasn't the case, though. She knew her sister and brother-in-law were under a spell or something. Anything. It wasn't them. It hadn't been them at all. "So, what do you think of them?" She asked quietly. She couldn't help but feel curious, but at the same time, she moved closer to him letting him know she was there to comfort him if he needed it.

He took a step back, not meeting her gaze, but staring at a spot on the floor. He shifted uncomfortably, and when he could stand Prue's gentle, querying gaze no longer, he whispered, "Are they… will they… will they hurt me?"

Prue felt her heart clench, but her face stayed strong and even. "What do you think? You met them; you heard them."

The teenager's eyes flitted up to meet hers abruptly and flicked right back down. There seemed to be an internal struggle going on within him. One he didn't want to press upon his greylighter. One that he didn't even want to have, himself. After several more silent moments, he wrapped his arms around his chest. Prue instantly recognized it as a movement of insecurity and resisted the urge to hug him against his will. He had to come to terms with this on his own. "I think…" he hesitated, then stopped totally, collecting his thoughts before starting again. "I don't want them to," he murmured. "But… they've lied to me before, right? And… and I just seem to be able to make people mad just by doing little things, so even if they weren't lying… I might change their mind accidentally. Stuff happens…" He ended with a hollow little shrug.

Prue closed her eyes. She couldn't stand the hopelessness in his voice. The insecurity. She couldn't bare to hear how intimidated he was. Making the decision in less than the time it took to think it up, Prue waved her hand and consumed Chris in orb lights. She sent him to Piper and Leo's room and sealed their door instantly with a spell that even Chris wouldn't be able to break.

She didn't care if he panicked again. Piper and Leo would handle it. She just couldn't let him keep on thinking his parents were cruel, heartless people their entire lives. She couldn't stand the thought of him not ever knowing them. And maybe Piper and Leo could convince him that they loved him like two parents should.

Maybe.

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A/N: Feedback, people! Reviews really make this story worth it all.**


	25. A Try at getting in Wyatt's Head

**Disclaimer: Eh, Aaron Spelling and Brad Kern are difficult targets. But don't you worry, I'll get 'em. And then this will be mine! ALL MINE, MWHAHAHAHA! … But, at this particular moment, I don't own Charmed. **

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"_Christopher… do you recall why you went insane last year, perchance?"_

_Chris felt as though the floor had completely given out beneath him. _One word-- and not a nice word at that-- was suddenly resonating within his mind as dread and fear began to suffocate him.

Bianca seemed to have realized what Wyatt was planning as well, for at that moment she jumped back to her feet from her place on the sofa. "Wyatt, _no_. You-- you saw him last year. An insane Chris is not only a danger to himself, he's a danger to everyone else around him, too. You can't… can't put him through that again. He'll lose it again."

The look Wyatt threw his fiancée could have made even the great Penny Halliwell back off immediately. "Bianca, do you forget your place? Tell me you are not trying to tell me what I can and cannot do."

"No, I didn't mean it like that, Wyatt. Of course I didn't," Bianca instantly hastened to assure him. "It's just… I was with him when he was… was like that. It _really _wasn't pretty. Are you sure you want to… to put him through that again?"

But Wyatt ignored her, turning his attention back to his little brother. "You haven't answered me, Chris."

Chris stared at him, mouth too dry to even think of forcing sound out. Now his mind was thinking something along the lines of, 'No. Not happening. No. No. Not real. No. No, no, no, no, no, no…'

This was unbelievable. He was _damn _proud of himself for living through… through… _those events_… the first time around. How was Wyatt gonna come and force him to relive them a second time without even batting an eyelash? That was freaking _unbelievable!_ Chris already knew Wyatt was more powerful. _Everyone _knew he was more powerful. Wyatt had nothing to prove. This was all so completely unnecessary it was ridiculous. Why was he doing this?

"I want you on my side," Wyatt hissed suddenly, seemingly able to read his baby brother's mind even though their bond had be severed the previous year. "If I have to drive you out of your mind first to teach you a lesson, then so be it. I am not losing you again."

"Wyatt, the first thing you did when you brought me back was try to execute me! You wanted me dead, not by your side!" Chris spat, mind still whirling. _No, no, no, no, no, no…_

Wyatt shrugged indifferently. "I knew you wouldn't let yourself be killed, so it wasn't a real execution, anyway. Just wanted to prove my point that you weren't going to change me in anyway by going to the past. What better way than to show you than letting you believe I'd kill you?"

Chris stared at him. This Wyatt really hadn't been affected _at all _by his trip to the past. Well… except… now his mind games were… _crueler_. Never before would he have threatened to make him go through… _that _again.

"So, are you going to agree to join me and never cross me again," began Wyatt evenly, kneeling down directly in front of Chris and locking their gazes, "or am I going to have to use your own power over memories to break you first?"

Chris couldn't break their eye contact, so he had no doubt in his mind that Wyatt saw the fear and dread cloud his eyes like a hurricane. This was suddenly becoming very, _very _real. Wyatt was really, honestly threatening to make him relive the day _everyone _had died. And Wyatt didn't make empty threats.

It was all Chris could do to keep the tears from welling in his eyes as the walls seemed to close in around him. It was getting hard to breathe. This was real. This was happening. And he had to make a decision. There was no escaping it. Insanity through grief, guilt, horror, and pain, or insanity through standing idly by as his brother took over the world and ruled with an iron fist?

There was no escape. No one was coming to his rescue. Bianca's hands were tied and everyone else was… dead. There was nothing. But… could he take on Wyatt? Would he stand even a sliver of a chance against his older, more experienced, more powerful brother? Could he stand a chance just long enough until he could run? _Could _he even run? Could he even stand? He had lost so much blood from the shattered glass. He had been severely battered in the fall through the floor.

He definitely couldn't stand up.

With a heave of hopelessness, he threw his stupid pride to the winds. "_Wyatt_," he murmured desperately. "Why are you doing this? I was just trying to _save _you. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I wasn't even trying to ruin you…"

There was a brief, almost doubtable pause, a flicker of emotion, before the Source spat quietly, "_You betrayed me._"

And without another word, another warning, Wyatt thrust his hands through the crystal cage and his long, magical fingers touched his little brother's temples. The boy gave a sharp gasp before his lean body went rigid… then limp.

There was another moment of silence. At length, Wyatt withdrew his hands from the cage, knowing the memory would play itself out on its own, and sat back on his haunches in a very un-Source-like manner. It was more like something a young man might do when he was completely stressed out.

There was silence again and Wyatt watched Chris with an unreadable expression. This was his little brother. This kid here, bleeding profusely, bruised, battered, and unconscious. This was the little one that had once come to him to get away from their mother when he knew she was in a bad mood. This was the same kid whose witty comments had never ceased to amaze him, whose brilliant green eyes would watch him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. This was his baby brother… the baby brother that looked so much like his baby sister that when they'd all gotten trapped in the black and white world, no one had been able to tell the difference between them. This was the one he himself had taught to speak English (mostly), taught to read and write in the language, taught to ride a bike… This was the baby brother that had taught _him _how to skateboard on handrails, stairs, and even walls.

The boy that wasn't even fifteen when he made the decision to do what _he thought _was right and headed a Resistance movement against him.

Did this kid even know his Resistance had been completely wiped out, yet?

Without a word, knowing perfectly well that Bianca was watching him, Wyatt leaned forward again and healed Chris's many injuries. The teen would be in bad enough shape when he came out of the memory without the physical ailments on top of it.

When the golden glow finally faded, Wyatt stood, straightened his shirt, and gazed down at his unmoving brother. "How long have you been there, Damien?" he asked indifferently without looking up.

"Long enough to see that you're not lost entirely," came the voice from the shadows. "We both know I'm supposed to be the only evil one in the family, Wy."

"So I take it my demons are vanquished," commented Wyatt, changing the subject. What was their obsession with good and evil? _He wasn't evil! Power. It was _just _power! Not evil._

"What? You mean the ones you wanted to rape me?" Damien stepped out of the shadows, face completely indifferent, though his grey eyes were as piercing as ever. "Yeah, they're scorch marks on the walls. You really think I'd let that happen again?"

He leaned against the sofa beside Bianca, casting her a slight nod of greeting before turning his attention to his little brother on the ground. "Why isn't he waking up? You healed him, didn't you?"

Wyatt arched an eyebrow. "I didn't know you cared." But when Damien looked him squarely in the eyes, waiting, he continued despite his sudden want to vanquish the unprincipled little brother, "I locked him in a memory."

Damien watched Wyatt, apparently waiting for a further explanation, but when he received none, hinted, "And this memory that is so horrible would be…?"

"When I killed his Resistance team and the aunts and cousins." More indifference.

Damien merely watched him with a neutral expression for a few more moments as Bianca shifted uncomfortably. Then he sighed, said, "Wyatt, that's the most idiotic decision you've made since you were crowned Source," and shimmered out.

For a second Wyatt and Bianca stared at the spot he'd been in. Wyatt remarked casually, "You know, I never will understand how he can shimmer when he was born with orbing."

Silence. Then, "Do you _know _he was born with the power to orb?" Bianca asked, point already proven. No one in this world had known Damien before he was six years old.

Wyatt observed her for a moment, letting no sign of his thoughts show through, then cast his gaze back to his brother, who was now tossing and turning in his 'sleep.' Wyatt didn't feel a whole lot of pity. Just… regret. This was all so unnecessary, if that stubborn kid would just _not fight him_, none of this would have to happen.

Time went by. Wyatt had forgotten how long he'd held Chris that day… or, _those days_, rather. Wyatt knew he'd drawn out the torturing, giving Chris as many chances as he could have wanted to back down. But, of course, Chris being Chris, he hadn't backed down, even when Paris was dying. **When Porter and Primrose **were dying. When Prue and Paige were dying to _stay _dead. Wyatt hadn't enjoyed doing it, but his Aunts and cousins had served their purposes and he no longer needed them as he did Chris. And if he could use their deaths to his advantage… well, good. But it hadn't really worked to his advantage in the end… Chris hadn't backed down.

And Paris… Wyatt knew her from their childhood, for she and Chris had been practically inseparable for a while… such a gentle girl. Such a strong girl. He hadn't wanted to kill her either, but he'd already gone through the rest of that damnable team and she was the last before he had to move on to family members. _Chris hadn't backed the f--- down!_

More time passed. Chris stopped struggling within the memory and was now just still. Wyatt remembered with a pang of guilt how this had been the moment his baby brother had given up. This was the moment that Wyatt had officially tipped his brother over the edge. Not like the time Chris had been registered insane when they were kids. This was the moment when Chris had _really _lost his mind. And this was the moment when Wyatt had still had two more people to kill.

The blonde looked away again. It would be another hour, at least. He toyed briefly with the notion of going to that meeting with the other major power sources he was supposed to be in, but he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't leave Chris's side during this. He may be pissed off enough to do cause his little brother this pain, but he wasn't pissed off enough to enjoy it.

That hour mark came and went, and after a few more minutes Chris's eyes gradually began to open. Instantly, Wyatt noticed and knelt down, thinking about removing the power crystal that kept the boy caged. But… no. He didn't know how stable the teen was, and if he was really unbalanced, he could be very dangerous.

But it was better than a perfectly sane and stubbornly 'good' Chris, wasn't it? After all, during last year when Chris had lost his mind, he'd used the Dark Arts many a time. He would be much easier to sway, insane.

Without Wyatt's noticing, Bianca had thrown herself down beside him and was bending low, looking into the prostrate Chris's eyes. "Chris? Chris, it's Bianca. Do you know where you are?" He didn't answer. He just turned over onto his back and stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Wyatt watched his fiancée as she spoke. She obviously knew how to handle this version of his brother. But, he remembered suddenly, she was with him last time when he had no one else. She was the one that helped him make it through. "Chris," Bianca continued, knowing nothing of Wyatt's thoughts. "You are in the year 2022, Chris. It's been a year after that happened and you're okay now. Chris, can you hear me? Do you understand?"

Wyatt noticed the clear voice, the repetition of using his name, and made a mental note that it probably worked towards some good or another. He'd remember to do that when he spoke to him. _If _he ever got the chance to, with the way Bianca was taking control. He rolled his eyes with annoyance and amusement alike. She was an amazing person, Bianca. No wonder Chris had fallen for her, too.

The boy was silent. He didn't seem to be able to hear her at all. He didn't seem to realize he was out of the memory. He didn't seem to care.

His eyes were empty. Dead. Hollow. Void of _everything_. Take your pick. Wyatt recognized the look instantly from the first time. Damn. He'd driven him completely over the edge again. He'd been hoping Chris would merely be numb after the experience; numb enough to follow his lead without question.

"Kill me."

Clearly his desires were no longer relevant to actual events. "No."

Silence. Wyatt watched his brother some more. His lips had barely moved when he requested to be killed, and they had stayed closed during and after Wyatt had responded flatly. Now he was just staring at the ceiling again. Wyatt ventured a little further, now that he knew Chris knew he was here, and said in a firm voice, "Chris, join me at this moment or I will replay the memory again, and you obviously don't want me to do that."

Silence. Chris didn't move. Bianca looked at Wyatt, shocked and horrified that he would even threaten that. Wyatt ignored her; he had eyes only for his mental little brother. The silence stretched.

Then, "… you killed them."

Pause. "Who?" asked Wyatt, somehow knowing Chris wasn't just talking about his friends and family.

There was more silence. Chris still didn't move. But when he did speak, his voice was so soft Wyatt almost couldn't hear him. "… I told you where the city was… so you wouldn't kill her… you killed her anyway… and the people in the city, too… you killed everyone…" His eyes were so empty…

Wyatt was confused. "What city? I did that to get you to jo--oohhh. Oh." He had forgotten that part. The city of New Nirvana. It was one of the last cities left that had only human innocents in it, and held a good twenty thousand of them, at that. It was that city whose only defense was the fact that Chris had cloaked it, so it was invisible to the naked eye of evil. He couldn't find it, so he had taken Chris's team and last remaining family members (besides Damien and himself, of course) to torture until he told him. Of course, Wyatt really hadn't cared about New Nirvana. His line of thinking had been something like, 'If Chris gives in and tells me this, he'll have given up and will join me.'

Wyatt closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, they found his little brother's unmoving form and he felt his stomach turn. He made a mental note that from now on, he'd actually _voice _the fact that he wanted Chris to join him before he turned to torture. That way Chris would at least know what the hell was going on.

"Chris…" He began, somewhat apologetically, "I--"

"_I folded, Wyatt!" _Chris suddenly yelled, on his feet and telekinetically sending his surprised older brother flying. "I FOLDED! Do you have any idea what that meant? And you killed Prue anyway! You killed her after I told you! _You killed everyone!_"

Wyatt struggled back to his feet, furious for having been caught off guard. Otherwise, he could have caught that stupid telekinesis and thrown it right back. Glowering, he stormed back to Chris, only to find the boy curled up on the floor, sobbing and rocking slightly. "Wyatt," he whispered, eyes unfocused. "Why can't you just kill me? It hurts so bad, Wy. Make it stop. I don't wanna hurt no more. Make it stop, please…" He cried quietly, now.

Wyatt felt guilt grasp onto his heart like an iron fist. Without speaking, he knelt down next to his little brother, struggling to find something to say while vaguely wondering why he was even bothering. This wasn't the time for emotion! If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he might have noticed Bianca backing away quickly.

Before Wyatt knew what was happening, Chris was shoving him backwards angrily, no trace of tears anywhere on his face. "_I hate you Wyatt! You deserve to die for what you did! I-- HATE YOU!_"

Wyatt looked up incredulously from his spot on the ground in time to see Chris pulling an atheme into his hand telekinetically. "What the--!" The oldest was cut off abruptly as he rolled out of the way of the thrown ceremonial dagger. "Chris, have you lost your mi--! Oh. Dumb question."

This time Wyatt remembered he had powers as Chris flung a table at him. He threw it in another direction telekinetically and used the other hand to send Chris into the wall, holding him there firmly. "Chris, you cannot win this fight, so just give it up. I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have."

Chris, seemingly out of nowhere, burst into laughter, but it was an unnatural, painful kind of laughter. "I hate you, Wyatt. I hate you with all my heart and I want you to die. And I want you to take me with you. That sound good to you?" Chris nodded encouragingly and Wyatt just stared at him. This was just… insane. And oh-so wrong. "What's the matter, Wy? Cat got your tongue? Or-- better yet-- did one of your demon friends cut it out _like you did Rose's?_"

Again, Wyatt barely had to register what was happening before he was being thrown, yet again, into the wall by a very angry little brother. But this time when he got to his feet, he hadn't been expecting to find Chris using the atheme to carve a symbol in the floor, chanting under his breath.

Ugh, Wyatt didn't have time for this. "Chris, what do you think you're doing?" he demanded. Then he caught a verse of the spell and felt his patience leave him completely.

"_Burn this place forever more_

_Through this rune on the floor,_

_Inhabitants dead before the dawn_

_So is my will, so is it d--_"

Wyatt threw out his hand and Chris was sent tumbling backwards, atheme dislodged from his hand and flying into the air above him. Then it came whizzing down purposefully-- as though with telekinetic force behind it. "Damn it, Chris! Stop trying to kill yourself and just come with me! I'm not going to kill anyone else," Wyatt finished softly, throwing the knife into the distance before it could reach its target. Chris threw him a reproachful glare.

"Man, Wyatt. Why do you always gotta get in my way? Well, no matter. My powers aren't bound." And with that, he flung out his hand and magically sent the dagger straight at Wyatt again. Wyatt growled in annoyance. These attempts at his life were just pathetic. Did Chris really think he couldn't see a nine-inch long knife flying at his face before he had a chance to stop it?

"Chris, I said stop this nonsense! _So, stop it!_"

Chris stuck out his tongue in a very childish manner. Then the kid caught sight of Bianca, who was flipping through the Book of Shadows. Something at the sight made his face flicker into a solemn expression. His eyes found Wyatt again, but they were unseeing. "Why… didn't you kill Bianca?"

Wyatt, momentarily confused, also found Bianca at the book. He frowned. "Bianca, what do you think you're doing?"

She didn't even glance up. "Looking for a spell to un-insane-ify him. I can't stand this."

Wyatt opened his mouth to say something, probably something telling her she had no business doing something like that, but suddenly got a vibe of the truth. She was trying to find a time-traveling spell to send Chris back to his parents, where they could fix it themselves, and away from this particular Source. He let a haughty smile cross his features. "Bianca, I thought I had turned you."

Bianca still didn't look up. She didn't need to. She knew her cover was blown. _Damn telepaths_, she thought distractedly, now flipping furiously. If she actually knew this book, it might not be so hard to navigate as it was now. She had not even the vaguest of notions of where to look, and the book was thick. Very thick. "If you don't believe in good and evil, why do you say 'turn' me?" she asked, just to keep him talking instead of… killing.

"Turn you to my way of thinking," Wyatt clarified evenly, coming up behind her and also looking at the pages as she turned them. He wasn't going to kill her. Yet.

"So, also if you believe good and evil are nothing, why did you become the Source of all Evil and not an Elder?" she queried, shifting uncomfortably at how close her present fiancé was standing.

"The Elders do everything by council, whereas the Source has complete control over everything. I think you see which was my obvious choice."

Bianca stopped at a page about a demonic time-traveler. Then she saw the date of vanquish and continued flipping. She wasn't above using demons for help, but she'd rather not have to resurrect one to get it.

Suddenly, the floor started shaking violently and a wave of pure heat soared through the room, knocking Bianca clear off her feet. Wyatt, however, managed to stay standing, but had to squint through the continuing waves to see the source of the problem.

Chris was curled up in a corner, quaking violently, eyes wide open but empty and unseeing. He was mumbling incoherently under his breath. Blood was splattered carelessly across the wall behind him; Wyatt couldn't see that Chris was wounded anywhere, and that was a lot of blood.

The heat was getting unbearable. It had to be in the hundreds, Wyatt judged, as the wooden walls began to turn black and catch fire. The Book's pages were curling, flicking in the scorching temperatures. Wyatt flicked his hand and the family heirloom was instantly consumed in black orbs and vanished, going back to its place in Wyatt's own magically guarded alter room. He cast his eyes back to the floor to where Bianca was laying, unconscious and drenched in sweat. He sent her to a room at his base and sent a telepathic message to his followers, telling them to get four guards outside her door and a maid to give his fiancée a cold bath.

Now all that was left was his little fire deemer of a brother, who hadn't moved from his corner and hadn't ceased shaking and mumbling. Wyatt sighed. This was a really bad time to be developing a conscience.

But, all the same, it _was _developing and he proceeded to walk forward and take Chris by the shoulder. Chris instantly flinched, but didn't try to kill him or anything, so Wyatt was free to orb them out. He took them straight to Chris's old, long-since-used apartment at the 'Evil Base' and put Chris on the bed without bothering to try and talk to him. Besides, it already looked as though Chris was in the middle of a conversation… even if it was only with himself.

Wyatt stood back and watched him for a moment. It was safe to say, now, that this plan had backfired. Well, actually, not entirely. Chris wasn't trying to put together a new Resistance. He wasn't trying to get back to the past to corrupt everything Wyatt had worked so hard for. He wasn't even making sarcastic comments and threats.

So this plan _had _worked, the only drawback being that Chris was now insane.

_Eh_, Wyatt thought with a slight shrug as he flamed out. _There's no such thing as a perfect situation. This is close enough._

Now all he had to do was turn Bianca again and make sure Chris didn't recover from this state. He was starting to like this more and more with every passing second.

The only thing the Source didn't know was that the Charmed Ones and Leo from the past were still expecting Chris to return to them, and now that they knew his true identity, there was no way they were going to let him stay in this messed up future once they found out he was here.

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A/N: Hey peoples! I couldn't write out the memory as Chris saw it because I'd have to raise the rating for this fic, and seeing as I'm only fourteen myself, writing at the level of 'Mature Adults' just seems a little off to me. And also: For everyone who writes questions in their reviews, I DO remember them while I write so I WILL answer them… in the story. Don't worry, I'm getting to all of them and feel free to ask more. It keeps me on track, knowing what loose ends I still have. So, all in all, REVIEW!**


	26. Honesty Policy

**Disclaimer: Brad Kern. Aaron Spelling. Do you see Amanda in there anywhere? No? Didn't think so, SO BACK OFF!**

**WARNING: Rated R for language: AKA, Chris' mouth. If you REALLY don't like the 'F' word, email me and I'll edit it. And Don't read the Dedication, either. DEDICATION RATED 'R', too.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Kayla Smith: **Kayla, you'd still be alive if you just put on your fucking seatbelt, you idiot. I mean, _come on_. How hard can it possibly be? You put it on, you still go to college, you still be first chair clarinetist in band, your parents are still sane, your friends are still happy, you're still ALIVE. It's a win-win situation, dumbass! But _noooo_. You have to live life on the edge by not putting a freaking strap over your freaking chest; you're so brave-- NOT. Damn, girl. Seriously. (I know, I know, not a happy dedication, but you've pissed me off, you selfish bitch.)

**READERS:** I usually don't do dedications in stories, but I had to do this one so you will WEAR YOUR FREAKIN SEATBELT, or else one of your friends will do a dedication just like the above, and do you really want to be called a selfish bitch (yes, guys, too-- you should see what I called my boyfriend in his dedication) on the internet? Not good for a rep…

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Piper and Leo sat on their queen sized bed, holding hands for mutual support. It was hard, even after everything they'd done since, to believe that Chris was their son. That they had abused him. Thinking back to their neurotic whitelighter, it was hard to believe that he was even the same person as this sixteen year old, let alone their mistreated son. And thinking back to their angelic baby, it was hard to believe he'd grow up to be this Source. This Source that sent titans to smash innocent little children, innocent men and women who had no power to defend themselves… It was hard to believe that that angelic little baby would grow up to torture his own little brother… It was all just hard. 

"Leo…" Piper began softly, finding the room's 80's styled décor fascinating as she spoke. "How did we screw up so bad?"

Leo just shook his head, swallowing hard. "I really don't know, Piper… I just can't believe that we weren't under some kind of spell… I mean, I saw my future self, and that man… that look in his eyes was _not me_. I just know it."

"But you know Prue," Piper protested, unable to let her guilt go. "If she said she looked for everything, she looked for everything."

Piper had already told him about her and Prue's discussion. He had listened silently, eyes clouded in contemplation the entire time. Then there had been silence.

"Well… she must have missed something," Leo argued, a hint of desperation in his voice. "I just can't believe that we'd do th…aaat… Chris?" He finished, perplexed, as Chris orbed in out of nowhere, looking just as confused as they were.

"What the--" the boy began, but froze once he saw who he was in the room with. His mien suddenly screamed of shock and suppressed panic.

"Chris," Piper instantly began, seeing the unmistakable body language and jumping to her feet, holding up her hands out of pure reflex, only to find that she'd already screwed up.

"No!" Chris shouted, throwing out his palms and sending both Piper and Leo flying through the air out of his own reflexes. That done, he instantly started backing up, trying to flame out, trying to orb out, anything, but nothing worked. The entire room had been magically sealed. Obviously Prue's doing.

Piper and Leo clambered back to their feet, not realizing immediately why they were starting to sweat. Then Leo's face shone in a very 'uh-oh' way. Piper was about to inquire what he'd just understood, when it dawn on her, too. Powers were tied to emotions. Chris was a fire deemer, as in, he had power over fire, smoke , and _heat_. If they didn't calm him down soon, it was going to get very hot in there, by the look of things.

"Chris, it's okay! We're not going to hurt you," Leo said hastily, trying not to make any sudden movements as he straightened himself after standing up. "We told you-- we're from the past. We haven't done anything yet, and we are _not going to_. Please, believe it. We don't wish anyone but demons harm."

Piper nodded as calmly as she could, trying to look Chris in the eyes behind his sunglasses and finding it somewhat difficult. How was she supposed to give him reassuring looks if she couldn't make eye contact?

But then again, she doubted it would have worked even if he didn't have them on, as he wasn't even paying attention. His only concern seemed to be finding a way out, and apparently his intangibility wasn't working, seeing as he had his back pressed very firmly against the wall now and he wasn't falling through.

Piper desperately searched for something to say, something that would make him stop trying to back away from them, even if it meant going through a very solid wall. But no words were coming to mind.

Now Chris was shaking his head as though trying to deny that this was happening, then raking his fingers through his hair in distress. He stopped trying to get through the wall and started pacing, obviously trying to get in control of his emotions, hands continuously raking through his white/brown locks, acting oblivious to their presence, but clearly knowing they were there. Piper could swear she could hear him muttering, "No, no, no, no, no, no," again and again, his agitation increasing with every second he was trapped in the room with the two people he probably feared most in the entire world. And Piper's own distress was climaxing every moment she couldn't think of something calming to say.

"Chris, sweetie, please--" she began, but stopped as Chris froze and his hands went to cover his face when she said 'sweetie'. Then the pacing restarted, the distress continued, and the temperature started to spike dangerously. Sweat dripped from her forehead down her neck and dampened her shirt as her mind raced. Leo went to the door and tried to wrench it open despite the fact that he knew it was magically sealed. He kept wrenching at it for several seconds before standing aside, giving Piper room to blast it. He knew she wouldn't force Chris to stay.

Piper raised her hands and flicked her fingers. The explosion bounced off the door and hit the floor, scorching the rug. She tried again. Then again. Then again, all with the same result. She swung her gaze back to her distraught son, finding him not even noticing their struggle.

Piper breathed heavily in frustration and rising, unexplainable panic. This was all happening too fast. It couldn't have been even 24 hours ago that they found out Chris wasn't a full whitelighter. Now they knew so much… so much. And they were having to deal with it at lightening speed, least they send their _son _into a nervous breakdown.

"Chris, please! I promise we are not going to hurt you, so please, _calm down!"_ the Charmed One cried at last, feeling the walls start to close in on her. "We told you, we are from the past where you haven't even been born--"

"_So what!" _Chris burst at last, stopping his almost frantic pacing and throwing his arms out at his sides in reaction to unfathomable emotions. "We're supposed to be best buds and go have tea and cookies? How the hell did you think I would react? I already get that you're from the past and you don't know me, I really do, but what the hell do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? _I don't understand what you want from me!"_

Piper and Leo both stood blinking, shocked. Chris flung out his hands again and everything in the room went crashing into the walls, yet Piper got the vague impression it was unintentional. He was pacing again, though not so much in distress and panic, as in frustration at being trapped in the room with people that clearly unnerved him.

Piper watched with glassy eyes and pulled Leo's hand into hers without even realizing it. He gave hers a gentle squeeze of understanding. "Chris…" Piper murmured, unable to bare seeing him in such turmoil any longer. "Please, don't…"

"Please don't _what_, Piper?" he demanded, stopping pacing and glaring at the wall in front of him instead of at his mother to his left.

Piper inhaled sharply at the tone of his voice and use of her first name, wounded. Tears pricked at her eyes and she tried to fight them back in order to answer her son in the calmest, gentlest voice possible. But it was hurting her so badly for some reason… of course he wasn't going to call her 'mom' since he didn't love his own Piper in this time, and _she _wasn't even his mother, yet. And of course there was going to be some anger, some snap to his voice. Nobody would be happy about being ripped from their comfort zones and placed into awkward, painful and emotional situations.

She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but stopped as she realized, one: she wouldn't be able to, and two: because Chris abruptly faced the ceiling. At first she thought it was just the general motion of frustration, then she realized… there were new tracks of tears coursing down his cheeks. Her son was crying silently, and he was hating himself for it. Hating himself for displaying such weakness in front of his parents.

Her heart felt like it might split from aching so badly. "Chris," she whispered, letting her own tears fall, now. "Chris, honey, it's okay…"

But Chris shook his head, looking away at the wall opposite her and Leo. "No it's not," he said, voice taut with emotion, "because you're… you're…" he motioned at them with his hand, seemingly trying to say something but unable to find words. "And I was talking to you and you were… were normal… you're _good_," he ended with something like a suppressed sob.

Piper and Leo shared looks. Piper saw that her husband was crying as well… and he didn't really understand what was Chris' huge problem, either. She turned to look at her struggling son again. "Chris, whatever is wrong with us, we'll fix. We want to keep being good so we'll never hurt you--"

"But you do," he choked, finally letting his knees give in and he folded to the floor, sobs racking his body. "You've always been good people, always will be… you're proof of that… Wyatt's proof of that…"

"But _you disprove _that," Leo forced out in a firm voice. "If we hurt you, then we become bad people…"

But Chris shook his head, tears still finding their way down his cheeks, though he had stopped sobbing. Presently, he was leaning against the wall, looking hopeless and resigned, but no less assertive in his quiet contradiction. "No… once a good person, always a good person… I just… I just deserved… I _had _to have deserved it. You're not bad people so you wouldn't… wouldn't do anything wrong… So it wasn't abuse… It was just… just discipline…"

Okay, so maybe his voice wasn't all that assertive. But he seemed to be resigned to believe it, and that made Piper's heart clench in horror and disgust. "Chris, _no_, sweetheart," she breathed, aghast. "When a parent uses _food _as leverage, it stops being discipline and starts being neglect and abuse, baby. That's not right, even if you wrecked my car or pushed one of your brothers down the stairs. It's _not right_."

Chris' eyes found hers from behind the sunglasses, and she could sense the vulnerability in him, even if his voice was merely weak when he asked, "… then why did you do it?"

Piper was momentarily at a loss for words. Again. Then she took the honest route and voiced, "I don't know, Chris. I really don't know."

"But we're going to find out," said Leo, determination flaring in his green-grey eyes. "We are going to find out and we won't let you be hurt again. We still have time to change it, and by God, we will."

For a moment, Chris had been looking at them as they spoke, seemingly trying to assure himself they weren't lying, but now he looked away. Piper watched in concern, and wasn't eased when Chris drew his knees up to him, wrapping his arms around them in a subconscious motion of insecurity. He sill didn't respond to the oath, but was apparently "zoned out".

"Chris," Leo said slowly, after several more moments of silence, also watching his son in concern. "What do you think?"

There was silence again. Chris didn't look at them again for what felt like hours, and when he did, it was reluctant, as if he wasn't ready to see them again after what he'd been thinking. "I… I think… I think I want to leave," he whispered, barely audibly and looking away again to hide the renewed tears. His knuckles were white, they were gripping the hem of his pants legs so tightly.

Piper and Leo stared at him yet again. They didn't know what to do. They couldn't get out of this room, but they felt **so** compelled to let him go, let him find comfort again, it hurt. Piper looked up to Leo, eyes shining with fresh, unshed tears. "Leo…" she murmured. "What do we do? I can't… _we _can't keep him here against his will… it's hurting him."

"I know," Leo replied just as quietly. "But Prue just isn't letting anyone out until we're one big happy family!"

"The hell she won't," growled Piper suddenly, inwardly panicking as she saw Chris' foot begin to tap rapidly, nervously. She was not going to hurt her son anymore, physically _or _mentally. "Prudence Shannon Halliwell! I know you can hear me! Get this damn spell off this room, or so help me, you will regret it! You are hurting your own charge, your _nephew_, so _stop it!"_

There was silence. For a split second, the notion that maybe Prue wasn't going to react crossed Piper's mind, but suddenly the walls glowed in gold, then faded back to their normal white hue. The spell was lifted.

With a sigh of relief, Piper looked up in time to see Chris slide silently through the wall. She watched the spot he'd vanished through for another moment, then turned to face her husband. "Leo…" she began, a slight hint in her voice.

Leo met her gaze and smiled wryly. "I know, Piper, and we _are _going to find out why we hurt him. I meant it."

Piper didn't back down. "I know. So what do you say we wake up my lazy sisters and get working on it?"

"I say, the sooner the better."

* * *

Chris slid through the wall easily using his intangibility and stopped on the other side, leaning against it for support. One word was finding itself embedded in his mind, and it started with an F. He was finding it hard to think of anything else, besides that one word. 

For what felt like hours, he merely leaned against the wall, eyes closed and forcing his breathing into a regular pattern. It was all he could do. He couldn't even dare to think about what had happened, about what any of it meant. He knew it would hurt, and the last thing he needed right now was more pain. He just hoped they would leave him alone the rest of their stay. And why were they still here, anyway? They had gotten their artifact thingy. What else were they waiting for? Certainly not him… they wouldn't care enough to stick around in the future just to try and 'fix' him. There had to be something else…

_Oh no! Stop that! No thinking about that, **at all! **_He instantly yelled at his mind once he realized what it was doing. But too late. He was already thinking about his parents.

Chris hated his mind. He really wanted another one-- one that didn't hate its owner, because his mind _must _have hated him. Once he started thinking about one thing he didn't want to, it automatically started pulling up other things… other painful thoughts… painful memories… everything he didn't want, just out of spite. Or so he figured. He couldn't think of any other reason it wouldn't just do what he asked. It's not like he asked a lot of his mind. Just don't think about anything to do with Piper and Leo. And no bad memories from Wyatt's dungeons or cells, either. And that was the extent of his requests.

Of course, now that he reminded his mind of what not to think about, that automatically set it off thinking about all the things he'd listed. And there goes that 'F' word again.

_I'm going to send you to obedience school as soon as this is all over_, he thought at it, but he couldn't even hear his own thoughts over the sudden growing roar of emotions and memories. Pain. So much pain… _Free Style… Mom and Dad… their hate… everyone's hate… Wyatt's eyes… the total absence of warmness… the pain…_

A wave of flashbacks hit him like a tidal wave, sending the boy staggering backwards into the wall again, hands covering his face tightly. No. No, no, no. _The arrow going through Free Style's heart… Wyatt shooting Chris through the wrist with a Darklighter arrow and refusing to heal it until he stopped trying to destroy the room he'd been given… Leo hitting him with the Elders' lightening bolts for back talking Piper… Piper pushing him so hard he went straight through the banister on the stairs and fell twelve feet to the floor in the living room… Prue slapping him across the face for disrespecting Jessie's memory… Jessie falling to the ground… lifeless…_

The recollections just kept coming until he wasn't sure which way was up, which way was down. Fighting back tears, fight back the scream that was rising in his chest, Chris threw out his hands from his face and grabbed the wall for support. "Fuck," he said aloud, voice strained and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the fear, the pain… the memories. But it wasn't working. Everything just kept coming, slamming him, one after another, with the force of concrete cinder blocks.

Swearing again, Chris orbed out in an explosion of multicolored lights, disregarding the Elders' rules against it, and rematerialized a moment later in his aunt Paige's potion room. Swallowing back as many emotions as he could, he began making a potion; his normal grace for the art was completely gone as he reached clumsily for the ingredients, unable to see everything through the memories in his inner eye.

_Wyatt, throwing caution to the winds to orb into the cellar and bring Chris food and water, heal his shattered ribs… Wyatt, much older and shattering his ribs for visiting the Resistance… the commander-demon throwing him through a concrete wall, cracking his skull and crushing everything else as the remainder of the wall came crashing down on him… Wyatt, stabbing him in the stomach with a poisoned atheme for taking yet another city under his protection… Wyatt's cold, angry blue eyes. _

In a rush of anger and hopelessness from the latest memory, Chris threw the bottle of wraith essence across the room, shattering it into a million little pieces, and sank to the floor, breathing shallowly, raggedly. He couldn't do this. This was just the last straw. He couldn't survive this war. His heart was too involved, and that always made everything one hundred times worse. He was fighting his brother. His _brother!_

Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, the blonde boy only two and half years older than himself; the boy who had risked everything for him growing up… the one that had orbed him food and such when Piper had him locked in the cellar longer than a day… the brother who had taught him how to speak and write in English… the one that had encouraged his music and come to every concert without fail… Wyatt was his brother. And now they were fighting each other just because of their beliefs. This wasn't right.

"Oh God, Christine, what happened?" a voice broke through the silence of the room in pure horror.

Chris didn't have to open his eyes to know who it was, and know that it was someone he could trust. "Mandrake root and syrup of flame," he forced out through the pressure that was bearing down on his very soul. Or what was left of his soul… Oh God, not again…

He could hear the rattling of vials as his uncle fumbled through them for the ingredients he'd named. There was swearing then a loud bang, then coughing. Chris couldn't even smell the smoke that was obviously covering the room. _Jessie poking his zail-raven out of spite and him gasping in sudden anguish then poking her wolf cub right back_… _The light in Jessie's eyes being smothered as her beloved mother slapped her across the face for accidentally breaking a plate_…

He felt his uncle place a vial of the potion in his hand and empathically felt worry and fear radiating from the man like a microwave. With his eyes still screwed shut, Chris downed the potion in one gulp and waited for it to come into effect.

Gradually, the emotions began to fade and the latest memory of lying, starved, in his bedroom Wyatt had given him dimmed into nothing, and he could see his uncle's face clearly for the first time. Too relieved to do anything else, Chris leaned his head against the wall with a small smile. "Thanks Aunt Nicole."

Cole Turner smiled wryly in return. "You can repay me by telling me what kind of magical fix-it I just gave my niece, and why he needed it."

"He-- _I_ just lost control of my… mind… for a minute," Chris replied, realizing how strange that sounded. He sat back up, considering what he was he saying with the critical eye. Then decided he didn't care. "…Anyway, the potion was just like a magical… _sedative _or something. To make my powers… _calmer _so they'll listen to me more. Does that make any sense?"

Cole raised an eyebrow. "Like a magical lite beer?"

Chris' eyes went round with thought. "Ex_actly!"_

Cole snorted when he realized what Chris was thinking. "Nope, don't even think about it. Not only do Phoebe and Paige prohibit alcohol on their premises, you are _way _underage."

"_Nicole_," Chris complained. "Seventeen is close enough!"

"To twenty-one? _I don't think so, Christine_," Cole sing-songed back, giving him a hand up.

Chris glared good-naturedly, accepting the hand. "That's it. Henry's my favorite uncle, now."

"Henry wouldn't let you drink, either. He's a parole officer, Smart One."

Chris crossed his arms, glowering. "Don't remind me."

Cole chuckled, throwing his arm over Chris' shoulders and leading the boy out of the potions room easily. "Oh, yeah… happy late birthday, kid."

Chris smiled wryly. "Thanks… so how is everyone?"

"Well, we're all still alive, thank God," came the not-so-carefree response. "There was a really close call with the witch hunters last week. Apparently a few had managed to find their way into this place and rally together other magic-haters. Idiots. Didn't even realize magic is the only thing keeping their lives safe from Wyatt right now."

"I don't _get _them," Chris said, openly frustrated. "I mean, it's not like we all don't have enough trouble just staying off of Wyatt's radar without adding 'keep witch-hunters in check' to the freaking list!"

"There isn't anything _to _get," Cole said quietly. "All it is is simple, common hatred. Hatred for what's different. Hatred for what's unknown. Hatred for what they can't understand."

"Or stereotyping. A witch is what is killing their families. Friends. Driving them out of their homes and jobs…" Chris' voice trailed off and he gazed into space… Until Cole stopped in tracks, making Chris stop as well and turn around, quizzical.

"Christine, for once in your life, would you _please _act your age?" Cole demanded.

Chris raised his eyebrows. "What? Be a teenager? I've already gone and frenched my ex-assassin and you won't give me a beer, what else could I possibly do?"

There was a pause as Cole stared at him, then, "You did _what _to Bianca!"

* * *

"Piper, are you sure summoning your future self is a good idea?" asked Paige tentatively for the hundredth time as she lit the last candle for the séance to take place in this dormitory room. When Piper and Leo both just threw her evil looks, she held up her hands in surrender. "What? I'm just saying… she sounds kind of scary…" 

"I know what you're saying, Paige, I do, but I honestly think that I'd come to my senses in the afterlife," Piper explained again. "And if I just realized that I'd abused my son for the last nine or so years, I'd want to know why. So she probably does."

"Alright," said Phoebe heavily, coming forward and leading her sisters in taking hands. "Let's get this over with."

Piper nodded, but Paige held up her hand again in the 'hold on' motion. "Wait. Do you think Chris should be here for this? I mean, he might not believe you if you just blamed it on… whoever it was… without proof. I know _I'd _think you were just trying to point fingers."

There was a pause as Piper and Leo considered. "Could we really ask him to see her again?" asked Piper, referring to her future self as a completely separate person. After all, she kind of was.

Phoebe snorted. "Prue obviously did. But from the way you told us, there was no _asking _involved."

Piper gave her a look that immediately had her amused expression wiped clean. Rolling her eyes slightly, Piper looked back up to Leo. "Honey? What do you think?"

Leo considered. After a long moment, he sighed. "I think," he said, weighted, "that he deserves to hear anything she has to say, if you are _sure _she is really changed. My future self was pretty much… er… _dead_, for a few months and he didn't change at all."

"But I know I did," Piper said firmly. "So how do we get a hold of Chris? Can we still call him?"

"I dunno," said Paige shrugging. "We _are _his charges. Let's try."

They tried. And tried again. Then some more times.

* * *

Chris blushed under his uncle's disbelieving, shocked expression. "Don't even ask," he mumbled, referring to the 'I kissed Bianca on the lips for about five minutes' thing. Then… Chris' brow wrinkled in confusion. "What the…" 

"What?" asked Cole instantly, seeing the change of demeanor.

"I think… my parents are calling me… and Phoebe and Paige…" he said slowly, still frowning. It was no lie that his whitelighter powers had never been great; he could only sense charges when they called.

Cole looked taken off guard. "Your parents? As in Piper, too? How is that… possible?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you that they came from the past. Anyway… they're not shutting up…"

"So are you going to go?" asked Cole, seemingly not surprised that the people who had abused his nephew (or niece, whatever :grins: ) were here from the past and obviously in contact with him.

Chris looked at him as though to say, 'Hell no-- Who do you think you're talking to?'

"Go," said Cole firmly. When Chris just glared at him from behind the sunglasses, he rolled his eyes. "Christine Periwinkle Halliwell, get your butt orbing or flaming or whatever it is you do nowadays, now!"

Chris arched an eyebrow. "Why didn't you make my last name feminine, Nicole Julia Turner?"

"You forget, Christine, that the last three hundred or so years of Halliwells have all been women."

Pause. Then, "I hate you, Turnip."

"Turnip?"

"Turner. Turnip. Get it?"

"Whatever. Get your butt moving!"

Chris glared. Cole glared right back. At length, Chris sighed in frustration. "Fine, but if I get killed, I'm haunting your ass." And with that, the seventeen year old orbed in his unique, explosive way.

For a moment, Cole stared at the spot he'd vanished and briefly wondered why it worked like that. Then he sighed softly. "Piper Halliwell," he said to seemingly thin air. "You better not make me regret that."

There was a gentle, cool breeze in response.

**

* * *

Yeah, sorry for all you people who are tired of Cole being Phoebe's husband when obviously he won't be, thanks to that season finale that showed who she marries. That 'other dude' is a fruitcake, if you ask me. I like Cole much better. Anyway, thank you for reviewing and please, do so now, too! I'll try to wrap this up in another four or maybe five chapters, 'cause I NEVER freamed of it being this long... Anyway... REVIEW! **


	27. The Valiant Effort

**Disclaimer: Running out of sarcastic and overdramatic things to say here… hm… **

**Yeah, nothing's coming. So, as much as it pains me to write out 'normally', I don't own Charmed. I only play with its characters… **

**WARNING: the 'F' word again. Somebody needs to wash that teenager's mouth out... :)**

* * *

The sisters stopped calling their future whitelighter abruptly as multicolored orblights exploded in the room and materialized into the boy in question. They gaped. Then Paige burst, "No _way!_ How come you get customized orbing and I don't? I'm only half whitelighter, too!" 

Chris snorted. "Nice to see you, too." Then his eyes found Phoebe and his mouth came open slightly. _"Phoebe?"_

"What," asked Paige, grinning, "does she look really, really old in this time or something?"

Chris laughed. "Are you kidding? She should come with a red stamp on her forehead that says, 'This product has expired'!"

Paige, Piper, and Leo all burst out laughing while Phoebe looked close to murder. "Why, you little--" she began, advancing on the teen.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" Chris instantly said, holding up his hands in surrender and backing away. "What I really meant to say was that I love your hair!"

Phoebe beamed. "Really? Well, that's much better. Even if you are lying, _you little liar_."

Chris smiled, rolling his eyes. "Ah, well. Anyway, you guys called? Which, by the way, is extremely weird seeing as I only hear charges…"

"Yeah, well, that's because--" Phoebe began, but Piper cut her off with a warning look.

"We can't tell you that," she said, noticing how her sisters and husband looked indignant because she got to say his catch-phrase in this ironic way and not them. "Anyway," she continued, ignoring the way Chris seemed to be watching her like she was an unstable bomb that might explode at any given moment. She wasn't really sure because of the sunglasses thing. "We called you because we're going to summon me… er… your mother, me. From the dead… For an explanation."

Chris continued to stare at her. Phoebe, misinterpreting the look, felt required to explain, "Chris, sweetheart, this Piper--"

"Is from the past and she's not going to hurt me," he finished for her, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I got that. But this time's Piper _isn't _from the past and _does _commit unprovoked acts of hostility against me."

"Unprovoked acts of hostility," repeated Paige thoughtfully. Then, "I like that. I'm going to use it again before the day's over."

Chris arched an eyebrow. "You do that." After a further moment of giving his aunt a look, he shook his head, steadying himself again, then asked, "Okay, what makes you think she's going to cooperate?"

"She's dead," said Piper without the awkwardness expected when talking about her own death. "She'll have come to her senses and found out why she… did what she did. Because she'll be a good, probably angry, person again."

Chris looked like he wanted to laugh. "Believe me, she was an angry person anyway."

Piper gave him a look which immediately wiped the want-to-be smile from his face. "You know what I mean."

"Assuming they're right, dumbass," Chris said indifferently.

_"What?" _chorused every voice in the room, staring at him, surprised and confused.

He glanced up at them expecting them to clarify what the problem was, when it appeared to hit him. His mouth fell open. "Oh! No-- I wasn't-- talking to _you_, I was… not planning to say that out loud, either… anyway, not you. Nevermind. What were we talking about?"

They continued to give him looks. "Chris, there is no one else in the room you _could _be talking to," said Paige bluntly. When he merely gave her a look, not answering, she sighed and shook her head. "Anyway, we wanted you here to hear what she has to say. We promise if she's not… _nicer_, we will send her right back. Deal?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Yes," said Leo sincerely, actually managing to surprise Chris.

"What? Really? Cool."

"He lied," said Phoebe. "If you say no, we'll drive you crazy until you say yes. So really he's just trying to be nice."

"Oh," he said, looking momentarily crestfallen, then seemed to resign himself and make the best of it. "Okay, then," he said somewhat lightly.

Piper smiled. He looked so cute when he was resigned and lighthearted at the same time. Still beaming slightly, she stepped forward. Her sisters took the hint and did the same. They each took a hand.

She could feel Leo's anxious yet supportive gaze on her and took confidence from it. She could vaguely see Chris take a few steps back and lean against the wall, watching from a slight distance, and took determination from that. She took a deep breath, strengthening her resolve, and led her sisters in the chant.

Almost instantly, a figure appeared, but the figure dove behind the bed before they could even make out her face.

"People, get between us!" the woman commanded of her past relations, shielding her eyes, back to them.

Piper, Phoebe, Paige, and Leo all shared confused looks but did as she asked.

When the human shield was sufficient enough to hide Chris from her view, the Piper of the future removed her hands, allowing them to see her face.

Of course it was Piper seventeen years in the future, but she only looked a little different. Her hair jumped out at them first-- it was cropped off just below the ears in a shorter version of the style Phoebe had had last year. Her eyes were far more lined than any of the other future Charmed Ones' and had obviously seen a lot more, and that was about the extent of the alterations.

"It took you long enough to think of summoning me," she snapped, but she was smiling. She didn't look angry or scary in the least. "I've been waiting to talk to you since you got here."

"Wait, wait, wait," Piper interrupted. "Why are you hiding from Chris?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't want to hurt him."

"Are you sure you got the right Piper?" Chris asked from behind them, clearly not eager to meet his mother face-to-face again, either.

_"Shut up you little brat!"_ The deceased Piper all but screamed. "Was anybody talking to you?"

Chris pulled a face. "Nevermind. That's her." At her continued heated silence, his unhappy countenance deepened. "Fine. I'm sorry for speaking out of turn, _ma'am_."

"You should be," the woman spat, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "Piper, would you please tell Christopher that I'm very sorry for being ugly to him."

"Er, okay," said Piper, frowning. She turned around to face her future son. "Chris, she said she's sorry."

"I heard," he replied, looking just as lost as she was. "Could somebody please explain to me what the hell is up with the split personality?"

"Not for your life, I wouldn't," spat the eldest Piper venomously. Again, she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath. When she opened them, she looked at her past self and spoke to her only. "This is what I'm talking about."

"You _are _under a spell, then," said Leo, eyes round in relief. "What kind of spell? Who cast it? Why didn't Prue find it when she was looking?"

The woman smiled bitterly. "You're not going to like this. At all." When everyone just watched her, waiting expectantly, she sighed and continued. "You know how Leo used his Elder powers to take away my pain from him leaving?" she asked. They nodded. "Well… they also have the power to take away other feelings… and give other feelings. There was a group of Elders who used their _good _power to give me… _strict _indifference towards Christopher when he came back to us after living with them. They wanted just enough of… _that quality _in me so that I would keep him in line without so much remorse at disciplining him."

"But why would they want you to keep Chris in line so badly?" interrupted Piper. Though that sounded just like something the Elders would do, it just didn't make any sense.

"Because," her future self replied with that wry smile, "he and Jessie were supposed to be able to turn evil because of something little. They felt that if Christopher was disciplined to stay on the side of good no matter what, they wouldn't have to worry about Jess. But they gave me indifference towards him… so I didn't care about him. So therefore, I started neglecting him without even realizing it. And because I didn't care, when he did something wrong, like all little kids will do, a tiny little slap on the wrist was fine by me. But obviously, a little slap on the wrist isn't going to make someone as stubborn and reckless as Christopher change his ways."

"I am not," Chris protested before he could stop himself. Jeez, Chris, think you'd know better by now not to argue with you're mother?

"You are if I say you are!" his mother yelled angrily, making him cringe.

The younger Piper, still acting as a human shield between the two, looked over at the boy with an apologetic look. "She's sorry, again, sweetheart."

"Sure she is…" he said. _God this is weird_, he thought, mind spinning. The Elders, as in: The people who had practically _raised _him, had been behind this. The Elders. But they knew him! Why would they want his mother to 'discipline' him?

_Gee, I dunno_, said Wyatt's voice in his head. _Maybe because, as you said, **they know you!**_

Shut up, Wyatt. I thought I told you to get out of my head, anyway.

_You didn't say please_, came the snide remark. Chris physically scowled. He hated his brother's power to get into his head. Of course it was a two way thing, but Chris couldn't kick Wyatt out, like Wyatt could he. It was _so _not fair. And, though he would never admit it even in un-verbalized thought, he was terrified of what Wyatt might see inside his head. The location of this safe-house? Resistance code-words? Certain supposedly dead people…?

"Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," came his mother's voice, breaking him out of his mental argument and growing inferiority complex. "The Elders' _indifference addition_ hadn't really given their desired outcome, so not too long afterwards, they decided to add something else to make me _want _to make him stay in line. They added the part about heartless, overdramatic bitchiness, so when Christopher… I don't know, I think he pronounced some English word wrong, but anyway, I decided to get that group of Elders to help me drown him. And they thought it was a good idea too, and much easier than changing my emotions all the time, so we tried to drown him."

Chris burst out laughing, making everyone from the past turn to stare at him. He quickly stifled it, but his face was reddening slightly from the suppressed mirth. They continued to stare at him, and Wyatt's voice said, _Yeah, what's so funny about why you are terrified of fish? Fish… ha. That never gets old…_

Shut up, he mentally deadpanned.

"What?" Chris demanded lightly, though really he was starting to get the urge to cry, now that he thought about it. This really wasn't funny. They were still staring at him, waiting for an answer. "It's just the way she said it, like it was the simplest thing in the world, or something…"

"What, did you miss the part about heartless, overdramatic bitchiness?" demanded dead Piper harshly. "Honestly, just try actually listening for once, will you?"

"Tried it. Wasn't half as fun as trying to come up with elaborate yet wild guesses," deadpanned Chris ignoring the looks that everyone from the past gave him, asking with their eyes if he was insane or just plain stupid. They didn't know how often he and his mother used to have these type of conversations. Now it was her turn to lecture him about rhetorical questions and then say something about if he had to answer, he should at least keep his sarcasm to a minimum.

"You sarcastic little brat! Did you actually think I was asking you? Rhetorical questions are me just trying to be nice while trying to get something through that thick, smart ass skull of yours!"

See? Exactly what he'd had in mind. "Well excuse me and all my mentally challenged-ness."

"Challenged-ness isn't a word," his mother growled darkly and her past self knew that if looks could see through human-body-shields and kill, Chris would be pushing up daises right about now. She was glad her future self could do neither.

She decided to interrupt before feelings started getting hurt. "Okay, you two, cut it out," she barked in her best no-nonsense voice. Chris, who had opened his mouth to make another retort, instantly closed it then crossed his arms. Piper continued, "Um… Piper, go on with whatever you were going to tell us."

The eldest crossed her arms but continued her explanation, nonetheless. "Well, obviously Christopher lived. By the time we got home and Phoebe and Paige saw that Chris wasn't with us, they cast a truth spell to figure out what we'd done. It didn't take them long to trace the bread crumbs back to that Elder power, and Paige orbed us all Up There to get them to reverse the magic. The group of _militant _Elders were only a little over halfway done with me and Leo when the other Elders found out what that group had done and ripped them out of the process to go to a hearing. We all thought they had finished because we weren't exactly having murderous feelings towards our little boy, so we went ahead and left. But, as you all must know, when there's no one there to remove the power's effect, it starts multiplying. At first, I didn't want to murder Christopher again, but I didn't exactly feel love for him, either. Then, after time--"

"You started to _incredibly _not love him, until it became hate and you wanted to make him pay for his very existence because, as we all know, it was his fault he was born in the first place. Not his parents' fault for not being educated in the area of safe sex," finished Chris, speaking in third person quite casually though his voice was icy, and added, "I do not _believe _this."

Piper (from the past) knew that Chris should be feeling anger, and therefore, his voice should be loud and, well, angry. His voice was soft and cold. Something about him seemed… calculating. Like he was checking the major points and making sure they added up and this wasn't all some (extremely creative) fabrication. She knew he had pushed most of his feelings aside for the sake of coming to a logical conclusion.

She herself was not using such techniques. _"Those bastards!"_ she all but screamed. "How could they be so heartless? Trying to drown a little child they knew-- they lived with-- they _raised! _HOW COULD THE VERY ESSENCE OF GOOD DO THAT? I'm going to vanquish their asses, _right now! _Give me names! GIVE ME THEIR NAMES NOW, WOMAN!"

Her future self opened her mouth, seemingly very pleased to see that she was going to vanquish the ones that had caused so much pain and misery. "G--" was about all she got out before Chris cut her off coldly,

"No. Don't. I don't want to know. We can't vanquish them now, anyway."

Every person in the room turned around fully to stare at him. Phoebe and Paige were just as pissed as Piper, but Leo was shocked into stunned silence. Of course he would take it the hardest. His friends-- people he knew, respected, _admired _were going to turn around and try to kill his baby son. Then they were going to cause that little boy they were going to take in at age zero to five, endless years of anguish, agony, fear… How could they? But it was only a group of them… only some of them, and not the majority. That many he could live with because that many he could vanquish.

"Chris, what do you _mean _you don't want to know who they are?" demanded Paige incredulously. "And of course we can vanquish them now! They deserve a hell of a lot more than being vanquished, too! Maybe some graphic torture the author would be suspended for posting under a teen rated story…" she let her voice trail off, glowering contemplatively, mind creating several new methods of agonizing torture she'd like to use on their Blessed asses.

Five pairs of eyes stared at her. "Paige, what the heck are you talking about?" asked several random voices. But Paige didn't respond. She still seemed to be lost in whatever evil thought she was imagining at the moment.

Leo was the only one looking at Chris unbiased, now. He was hoping, _praying _that his to-be-son had found a flaw in this explanation. He had seen the calculating mien same as Piper and for once there was hope that he had found a possibility that made this all not true. Leo knew in his heart of hearts that if he had to face the fact that his friends, his _teachers _could so something like that to him and his family… he'd break. He wouldn't be able to handle it. He wouldn't be able to understand why.

"Chris," he asked softly, drawing the boy back out of his thoughts with unintentional abruptness judging from the way Chris jumped. "Please tell me you found a way to prove she's wrong." There was a pleading tone to his voice that no one could quite miss.

Chris forced himself to look at Leo and briefly wondered why. Nobody could see his eyes anyway. But his mind wasn't really on his eyes. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to face this problem. Not now, not ever. He'd spent the last two years of his life trying to bury his past not only from everyone who dared to ask, but from himself as well. He didn't want to remember it. He didn't want it to be his… He didn't want his past…

And the Elders. The Elders, the Elders, the Elders. As if he didn't already feel betrayed by them enough for casting him down from grace when he killed Piper, betrayed by them for killing… killing Free Style. They had made his mother abuse him, too? And Jess… They killed the last part of Jessie's soul with their zail… they had indirectly caused her death as well…

_Oh god_, his mind could barely whisper to itself. He felt his face flushing into a whiteness similar to a sheet of paper's and couldn't help but close his eyes and turn away. They couldn't see the tears that threatened to fall. They couldn't see pain he was in, the pain he was trying to suppress already.

Everyone was watching him, waiting for him to answer and he felt it. How on earth could he explain to them the concept of the greater good? How could he explain to them why he had to keep the Elders around so they could help him fight this war and save innocents and heal victims? How was he explaining it to himself?

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming himself enough to keep his tears in check. He unconsciously scanned his mind for signs of his older brother invading his mind, but he knew Wyatt had tapped out for some demonic meeting or another that required his undivided attention just after Chris had told him to shut up. He hadn't heard any of the final explanation. Thank God for small miracles.

With another deep breath and slow exhalation, Chris faced his 'family'.

"I don't want to know who they are, Paige, because I wouldn't be able to work with those people, knowing they're the reason I'm so fucked up.--"

"Oh, come on," soothed Phoebe. "You're not _that_--"

"You know I am so just shut up and let me finish," he cut her off quite calmly and ignored his mother's harsh scolding for speaking to his aunt like that, no matter how much her words secretly stung his heart. But he had to move on. He had learned not to dwell on pain if he could help it, and he would try his damn hardest not to. "And I can't let you vanquish them because we need them. It doesn't matter what they've done in the past. They thought it was for the greater good, anyway. But we, the side of good, need them now. I know in all actuality they don't help us a lot, but they give us direction and they give us whitelighters that can actually heal--"

"You healed Paris," pointed out Piper, trying to make him feel better about himself, but he brushed it off.

"Yeah, that was a first and probably one-time thing. I've never been able to heal before, and if I haven't learned in seventeen years--"

"How would you know unless you've tried before?" challenged his mother icily, denoting the childhood rule that he wasn't allowed to use magic.

Though Chris still couldn't see her through the bodies of his past family, he could feel everything she was throwing at him through her steely gaze. At it hurt. He hadn't seen her in two years, since he'd killed her, and going through this again… _now_… after everything he'd done, everything he'd gone through… everything he still had to do and accomplish… He closed his eyes, feeling his eyes burning with unshed tears. It felt like there was a metallic something lodged in his throat that he couldn't swallow back. Couldn't breathe through it… "Please, _not now, Mother,_" he choked thickly through the tears, the emotions, just trying to keep some degree of control. He turned away, struggling to force everything back and failing miserably. He blinked fiercely, swallowing hard. _"…Just not now…" _he whispered

It seemed to be all the ones from the past could do: stare at the teenager. It was the first time they'd heard him address her and call her… _mother_. What kind of a kid called their mother 'mother'? It was Mom or Ma or Mamma or even Mommy. Mother was so impersonal, yet it was coming out of their neurotic whitelighter's mouth and addressing… _Piper_. This was all so weird and messed up…

"Piper," said the future Piper, breathing deeply to keep calm, apparently. "Tell Christopher--"

"JUST STOP IT!" Chris yelled. "I AM NOT CHRISTOPHER AND I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY TO ME, NO MATTER WHAT FREAKIN' SPELL YOU MAY BE UNDER! _I DON'T CARE!" _Even knowing everyone was shocked at this outburst of violent emotion, Chris didn't care and flung out his arm in pure anger and intention. The wall, plywood, plaster, sheetrock, installation and all, exploded backwards as though hit by a truck at two hundred miles an hour, leaving a huge, gaping hole in the room. Without another word, Chris walked out through his custom made door, never once tripping over the scattered chunks and bits of wall.

For a moment, they were left gawking at the humungous void in the wall. Prue would never in her wildest dreams have been able to do that when she was alive. Future Piper seemed to be thinking about Prue, too, for as soon as anyone could speak again, she said quietly, "This must be how Dad felt when Prue would scream at him about his lack of fathering abilities and storm out."

The past Piper smiled slightly at that. "Yeah… he does remind me a lot of Prue. Parental issues but especially the workaholic part."

"Um, guys," said Paige somewhat timidly, "not to be rude and cut this conversation short just because I don't know Prue, but what are we doing standing around and talking when we have a shattered nephew slash son and an abusive sister slash wife slash self running amuck?"

"That's a lot of slashes," commented Phoebe while quietly wondering what she had been sensing from Chris. It had been not the mental block she could usually feel from him, but something… physically blocking her. Something physically restraining a part of his power, too. She could sometimes sense power with her empathy, and a lot of his hadn't been there during this… conference. But even without all his power, he'd still blown a wall to Kingdom Come.

Prue was right. That boy had a heck of a lot of power backing him up. She vaguely wondered why the Elders (the soon-to-be-dead-Elders, if she had a say in the matter) hadn't sensed his power when he came to the past. They were always warning the Charmed Ones about Rising Powers and Massive Power Surges. Were they discriminating against Chris already? Okay, so maybe Phoebe was a little angry…

"We've got to go after him," Leo declared passionately, moving to go after his son, but was stayed by Future Piper's hand on his shoulder.

"Leo, wait," she said quietly. "I should have done this first and we wouldn't be having this problem. I need you to finish removing the… _problems _from my head. I know you have the power."

Leo stared at her for a minute before nodding and walking to stand in front of her. He took a deep breath and put his hands on her shoulders. After a second, Piper began to glow and after only a few more seconds it faded away. The older woman gave him a soft smile and a thank you. "Now call your future self and fix him too," she said with only a faint smile at the word choice. "I'll explain everything that happened to him later. He still has no idea."

The ones from the past shared looks before calling the man they had personally seen hit their baby. Future Leo didn't appear happy, but he came anyway; and without a word, Leo walked to his future self and forced the glow into him, too. There was a heartbeat of a pause after the glow faded and the older man just stood, staring into space. Then his eyes began to get rounder. Then his mouth began to come open in shock and before they knew it, his knees had given in and he folded to the floor.

"What have I done?" he breathed, green-grey eyes filling gradually with tears.

* * *

Chris was just turning the corner of the hallway, ragged emotions churning, escaping, and flying everywhere, when he heard his father's voice calling his name. Racing footsteps echoed loudly throughout the deserted hallway. He couldn't orb away again-- those two times had been mistakes… who knew when the Source would trace them, now… -- and he didn't want to flame. He didn't like flaming anymore. It felt… wrong. He wouldn't. 

So he had no choice but to stop, trying to smother as many emotions he could as he did so. He didn't turn around. Not until he heard them pant his name again, halting a few steps behind him, giving him his space. Closing his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted, Chris turned and faced the people that had the audacity to call themselves his parents.

**

* * *

A/N: Thank you, Sparkling Cherries, for your review last chapter. It really meant a lot to me. **

**And I'm so sorry, xxLie to mexxI'll-love-you-for-it I just found your review for the fictionpress story in my Bulk Mail Folder, whatever it was doing there… Thanks for the support, and I promise Fishy Chrissy is my first priority. Thanks again!**

**Review, please! And I'll get to the adult Chris soon enough... just have to even out some time issues first... REVIEW!**


	28. Guilty Conscience

**Disclaimer: I will own this once I get my claws… I mean hands… on Aaron Spelling and Brad Kern… But until then, it's theirs. Until then…**

**I AM NOT PROMOTING ALCOHOL, PEOPLE. Just showing what Damien does to get out of a boring lecture. And sorry in advanced for all this angst. It actually hurt me to write, and that's saying something.**

* * *

An eighteen year old Christopher Perry Halliwell could be found rocking on a bed in an old, but fresh-off-the-market looking apartment. If he was capable, he would have noticed that nothing appeared to be changed, or that things looked in even better condition than in which he'd deserted them. The floor had always been regularly vacuumed, hard tops dusted, refrigerator refilled… everything. Except things he had been working on before vanishing when he was sixteen… plans for the Volley Rampage tactic he'd created while under an obedience spell cast by Wyatt himself… scattered reports turned in to him about Resistance members and doings… everything, but none of it disturbed.

Yet the fact was, Chris wasn't capable of looking at and noticing his old apartment. All he could see was the memory, the deaths… the torture. All he could feel was his pain, his friends' and family's pain. Their desperation, yet their never ending strength beneath it all. That strength hurt him the most… They had been strong for him… and he had repaid them by allowing their deaths.

Well… he had tried to stop Prue and Paige from dying. They had been the last two and he had folded. He had told Wyatt the location of that damn city of innocents… and Wyatt killed their aunts anyway. Then turned around and destroyed the city, too.

And now Chris could hear them. The people in the city he had condemned to death. He could hear them screaming in his head, begging for someone to help, begging to know why… begging just not to be raped or tortured before they were killed. Begging to be killed before their children so they wouldn't have to witness their progeny's agonizing demise. They screamed out the names of any and every magical being they'd ever known, some who'd helped them, others just from around. Most called for Paige, knowing her whitelighter senses would hear them. The others called for Chris. Him. Their killer. And they died none the wiser.

"_Chris! Chris, please--"_

"_--help! Please, oh God--"_

"_--Not my daughter-- please, not her! Oh God, help--"_

"_--us! Please, Paige, help! Help…"_

"_Chris, please… help us…"_

"SHUT UP!" Chris yelled at the top of his lungs, rocking back and forth furiously, now. "Just _shut up_; I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… just… leave me alone… I'm sorry…"

"Who're you talking to, Chris?" asked a very familiar, friendly voice.

Chris' eyes shot up. There was Victor Bennett, sitting beside him on the bed, smiling warmly at him. But… Chris' eyes went wide and he could barely breathe. "Grandpa…" he whispered, then blinked furiously, shaking his head. "No. You're dead. I saw you die in the hospital. You're dead and you can't come back and you're not here. Not here, not here, not here…"

"Chris, shh, son," Victor soothed, reaching forward to hold his nervous wreck of a grandson, but Chris pulled away sharply.

"_Why are you doing this to me?"_ he demanded, yelled, cried… It was so hard. So hard…

"You weren't responsible for my death, Christopher," said Victor softly… then faded away. The spot beside Chris was as if no one had ever been there at all.

The boy stared at it for a moment, head spinning, thoughts whirling and flying so fast _he _couldn't even catch them. His mind was crueler than even he had thought. The dead people he didn't know wouldn't shut up. The last moments of their lives were horrible and completely his fault, but it was over a year ago! What did they expect him to do? His guilt was already killing him enough without them shoving it even more so in his face.

They wouldn't shut up. And then there was his team again, right in front of his eyes, yelling at him, crying at him, demanding to know why they deserved to die when all they did was follow his lead without question, with complete trust. Demanding to know why he had lead them straight to their excruciating deaths…

They were standing in front of him, but their bodies were as mauled as they had been when they had each finally died. Not any of them was a pretty sight to behold. And Paris… oh, Paris…

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, shaking violently with suppressed sobs. "I'm so sorry…"

"_Chris, help us, please! Paige! Chris! Phoebe… Prue… Piper… Anybody…"_

"_Please God, not Jenny!… not Jenny, too…"_

"_ANDREW! NO! **ANDREW…! **Somebody help! Somebody--"_

"_--help! Please, anybody…! Help…"_

"_I promise I won't be a bad girl no more. **Promise**. Just, please, don't hurt me…"_

Chris sobbed even harder beneath the voices, beneath his friends' accusing eyes. He couldn't do this. Why was he still alive? Why did he have to survive _everything_? _WHY?_

"Help," he sobbed quietly, barely able to speak through the heart wrenching flood of tears. _"…please help me…"_

He didn't know who he was begging for help. He didn't care. Anybody… anybody at all was good, if they would just… put an end to this… this pain… Anybody…

"Chris, baby," said a new voice, a voice he could hardly distinguish from the others. But he knew this one, too. If he could just think… "Chris, come on, honey, snap out of it. Whatever you're seeing or hearing, they're not real. They're not there. It's just you and me, baby. You and me. That's all. Now come on, Chris…"

Chris shook his head. He couldn't see the speaker through the tears in his eyes, or through the images of flames… of a burning city… clouding the rest of his vision. His team… Andre, Duncan, Joden, and Paris… all so accusing, all so sad and in pain… It wasn't right. They were dead. No more laughing and horse playing… they were _dead_. Did they even get funerals or did Wyatt just incinerate their corpses like he did most torture victims'? Oh God, Paris…

"Chris!" said the voice, more sharply. "_They are not real_. But you can make them real. Whatever it is… the voices… they don't have shape. Give them shape, make them physical to you, baby. Make them into… a cube or something. Okay, Chris?"

But Chris shook his head again, seeming to be more of a five year old than eighteen year old. These people that were screaming and dying… they were people, not cubes! How could he do that to them? How could he make them so insignificant and impersonal? Like they didn't matter? How could she ask him to do that to them, their memory?

"Chris, give them shape, damn it!" the voice commanded, not in frustration but… something else. He couldn't tell. There were just too many emotions… "Make them squares and physically squash them so they don't bother you anymore. Okay? You can do it, Chris, I know you can. Come on. Don't torture yourself like this. You're no good to anyone insane. Come on."

Chris blinked vigorously, trying to clear his head, but it was too crowded. He could briefly get rid of one thing, but then the other was still there, still so overpowering… It hurt so badly… they all wanted him dead. He had killed them all…

But Bianca's face, clearer than anything else, brighter than anything he'd seen in years, suddenly made it's desperate way to the front of his mind. Her face was pleading, but uninjured. And it was still loving, and supportive…

He took an unsteady breath and swallowed hard. Whatever voice was giving him the clear instructions was right. He could do this. It was just going to take a little bit of willpower… So, in a last desperate attempt, Chris mustered every ounce of control he still had over his vindictive mind and grasped onto it firmly. He focused on the voices… the people that were still begging and crying… and forced an outline around them and made their voices solid objects in his mind. He had no idea how he was doing it, but his mind could and so he did. He forced the outline inwards and compacted the voices so that they were still there, but he could push them, now.

He tightened his grip on his mind and 'physically' forced the block of people down. Down in his mind until they were getting so far from the surface, their voices were mere whispers echoing hollowly in his ears.

Gathering strength from that accomplishment, he moved his eyes to his team… his friends… and told them goodbye… and threw his mental powers at them, forcing them to dissolve into nothingness. As horrible as it sounded, he hoped they would stay away. They were dead… he shouldn't have to see them and be reminded of what he had done… they should just stay dead and leave him alone…

Chris blink a few times, clearing those thoughts away and swayed slightly where he sat. He was exhausted to the very marrow of his very bones. He drew a deep breath and cleared his vision, and could have laughed aloud.

Bianca was kneeling in front of him completely soaking wet, water pouring steadily from her hair and onto the carpet. She was wearing nothing but a towel that was so wet it clung to every square inch of her body. But she didn't seem to notice. Her cinnamon eyes were glued to his face, watching and waiting for a sign that he was okay. Or otherwise.

The boy smiled wryly at her. "You look like a wet rat."

For a moment, Chris thought she would laugh from the relief he suddenly felt rush through her, but then she was glaring and smacking him upside the head. "What the heck is wrong with you, boy?" she demanded none too kindly. "You don't call your girlfriend a wet rat! I oughtta ditch your butt right now for that comment! Jeez-zus…"

Chris rolled his eyes, trying to cover up the way his entire body was quaking. This wasn't right. It felt so wrong… Hurt so much… The voices were actual people he had killed indirectly. But he had killed them, nonetheless. A whole city of defenseless innocents… And here he was, using all the effort he possessed to cover them up with emptiness. Emptiness. Nothingness. Instead of _people _who had died for no reason other than a family spat. And using so much energy to suppress these screaming, thrashing people was a pain he was only too used to, but a pain he'd never be immune to…

"… Chris, did you hear me? Hello?"

"Huh?" came Chris' eloquent remark.

"I said that we need to get you out of here," Bianca repeated patiently, getting to her feet. Chris moved to rise as well, but she put her hand on his shoulder, holding him down. "No. I'm just going to go get clothes on and I'll be back. You need to rest for a while. You've had a long-- _really _long day. But I'll be back soon. Promise."

Chris nodded mutely and watched as she strode from the room in nothing but that towel… He briefly toyed with the idea of causing a little telekinetic wind… But no, they had work to do and he had a mind to control. Adding powers atop it all would just make everything messy again, and, contrary to popular belief, Chris didn't like messy.

As the door closed behind his ex-fiancée, Chris allowed himself to tilt sideways and fall into the pillows on the bed. He was so tired… And again, he thought about how living in the past had made him soft. There, he could sleep whenever he chose to without having to worry about that damn curse the Elders in the future had put on him. Of course, he almost always had bad dreams, but with a life like his, who wouldn't? It was still sleep, not 'relive all my bad memories lying down', like it was here.

He groaned unenthusiastically at that thought and snuggled deeper into the pillows. Maybe he could just pretend he was asleep for a while and it would trick his already overloaded mind and make him feel less tired when finally had to get up… Tricking this sorry excuse for a mind shouldn't be too hard…

He had hardly closed his eyes, however, when Bianca was flinging the door back open and slamming it shut behind her, breathless and dressed. He groaned again when she came and pulled on his shoulder. "Five more minutes," he whined, rolling over just enough to see her expression. It wasn't one to tolerate games at the moment. Needless to say, he got up.

"Where are we going?" he asked, no longer tired as he followed her back to the door. He leaned back against the wall as she opened it and peered around for 'company'.

-----------------------

"Back to the manor," Bianca replied quietly. Finding no one, she lead the way out into the hall. The two moved together with the grace of hunter and huntress as though knowing the steps of this dance by heart. It hardly even distracted them from their conversation.

"Back to the manor," Chris repeated flatly. "Why? We've kind of already tried that and it kind of blew up in our faces."

"If you're implying that any plan I executed went badly," said a new voice and Damien shimmered in, arms folded and looking as casually indifferent as always, "then think again, Christopher. There were merely a few calculated risks taken and dealt with."

"Dealt with," repeated Chris flatly, making Bianca look at him in concern. It was uncommon for him to repeat things so flatly so many times a day. Maybe twice a week, but besides that, he'd have had a sarcastic comment just waiting for the opportune moment to slip out. Now he was simply waving at those moments as they moved right on by. _He really is out of it_, Bianca mused.

Damien arched an eyebrow, observing Chris. "So…" he said slowly, "you're not insane. That's… unexpected."

Chris scowled at him. "Unexpected? What, were you _waiting _for me to lose it?" A little better…

"No, I was _expecting _you to lose it. Honestly, did you not notice how 'expect' is the root word of 'unexpected'? Christ, maybe you are insane after all," Damien shook his head in mild annoyance and exasperation. Mild. Emotions never fled freely across Damien's mien. **((A/N: sorry, had to do it :wicked grin:))**

Chris crossed his arms and continued glaring at this evil excuse for a brother. Damien just rolled his eyes before turning his attention to Bianca. "He's at a meeting with the head powers. There won't be any security at the Manor, but that meeting is so boring he'll be looking for any excuse to cut it short. He's going to sense you the moment you step foot in the front door."

"So we go in the back door," concluded Bianca with only a hint of mock in her voice. "Come on, he'll take a few minutes to make sure he's not mistaken. He wouldn't believe we'd do this again so soon."

"_I_ can't believe we're doing this again so soon," Chris muttered, seeming not to be in a good mood anymore. He was particularly throwing Damien harsh looks. Bianca could see the faint lines of stress in his countenance and the way he couldn't stand still anymore. She knew he was internally struggling again, but not necessarily about Damien. Who wouldn't be a little bad tempered after watching everyone they loved being tortured for hours and hours until death? She knew that she herself would have given in after the first knife went through her little sister's hand…

"Get over it," Damien was saying indifferently. "You're the one that has a problem with the way things are now. Don't take it out on me."

Bianca held up her hands, interrupting before Chris could snap back. "Boys, please. Now is not the time. Damien, are you going to come with us?"

"Definitely not. I have to get back to that meeting… just left to grab a beer when I felt you two sneaking out," came the unconcerned reply. Bianca noticed for the first time the shape of a beer bottle in a side pocket of his trench coat.

"Aren't you still, like, over a year underage?" she asked, amused.

Damien gave her a look. "My _God_, woman. Do you really think anyone's crazy enough to ask to see my license or something?"

"You finally passed the driver's test?" asked Chris, openly grinning. "What, did Wyatt threaten to kill the instructor if he didn't pass you?"

Damien glared coldly and smacked Chris upside the head. "You asshole. I got my license on the second try and you damn well know it. You're the one that took the test _six times _before Wyatt destroyed the last department of transportation and you had to get a fake one-- just to please _Aunt Freebie_, no less."

Chris glowered. "I only failed those times because _you _sent demons after me and I charged with reckless driving, and _you _damn well know it."

"BOYS!" Bianca yelled, thoroughly annoyed, now. They shut up. She threw Damien a look. "You, get back to your meeting and don't drive until an hour after you finish that--" Chris inserted an alternate instruction here, which we can all hazard a correct guess, but Bianca ignored it, only throwing him a silencing glare. "-- and you, come with me. No more bickering like little three year olds."

She paused as Chris flicked his wrist minutely at… the wall. He mouthed something at it, obviously trying to be discreet about it. Judging by the fact that she had noticed, she could say quite confidently that it wasn't working. She tried to catch his eye to ask him without words what was up, but wasn't successful. He seemed to be getting very stressed out about whatever he was seeing, tapping his foot where they stood, restlessly looking around… She shared a look with Damien, whose expression was neutral. At last Chris angrily sighed and said loudly, _"Would you just shut up, already!"_

They continued staring at him. After while, he seemed to notice them again. "What?" he asked, perplexed.

Damien rolled his eyes and gave her a look she couldn't decipher before shaking his head and turning his piercing grey eyes to Chris. "Don't screw it up, Christopher," he said by way of farewell and good luck. He shimmered out, unscrewing the beer cap as he did so.

Chris and Bianca shared looks, each thinking something different. Then they came to the same silent conclusion that they should get going again, and started once more for the exit. They wouldn't use magic unless it was absolutely necessary. Wyatt could sense their presence, but not unless he wanted to, and at the moment he had no reason to believe they weren't in their rooms. He would, however, sense them the instant they used magic. They weren't eager to face the consequences that would come with being caught, so they could live with walking until they came to a car they could jack to drive the rest of the way.

Several times in their walk Chris would suddenly veer to the side as though to avoid running into something, or someone. Several times he would tell people that weren't there to go away. To say that Bianca was worried would be a serious understatement.

It wasn't long, though, before they were out of the headquarters and on the decaying streets of San Francisco and making their way to the Halliwell Manor Museum once again.

* * *

Wyatt watched as his younger brother slid into his seat at the meeting. Of course Damien was a head power, being a Halliwell automatically made one powerful, but the teen didn't take this seriously… at all, apparently, judging from the beer he was drinking. Wyatt briefly wondered if he was right in letting Damien off the hook so easily. After all, the young man had tried to lead his littlest brother back to the past to change all this… That hadn't been a tiny little miscommunication problem.

_Maybe he was just drunk_, thought Wyatt, eyes wandering to that beer again. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Chris was smoking marijuana at age thirteen, and beer wasn't even illegal. Of course, Chris smoking pot had bothered him, too… Eh, he didn't know. Dealing with demons and disobedient witches was so much easier than family-- a point _every _Halliwell could agree on.

He turned his attention back to meeting. It was hard to watch the entire world at the same time and rule over it with an iron fist, so he divided the world into divisions and placed 'trusted' demons in charge… these were those demons. He was trying to get straight answers out of them about how settled the demons were. Wyatt couldn't stand the constant fighting and scavenging. He wanted a world of order, not chaos. What he had now, right after the war, was chaos.

"… and then there are those who have trouble with the idea of living in one place, so there are sometimes… _disputes _over land," one demon, a powerful grimlock in charge of Division 18, was saying uneasily. "Not real fighting, I mean, not complete anarchy… they still live to serve you, my lord, but…"

Wyatt vanquished the stuttering demon without even looking at it. "Damien, you're in charge of Division 18, now. I want those demons working to clean the place up, not destroy it more. You did a wonderful job with your divisions. I saw a few of them myself yesterday. No fighting. Wonderful. Do it again."

Damien arched an eyebrow. "They don't fight because they're all stoned out of their minds," he said with a hint of a smirk. "Who knew marijuana relaxes the nerves."

Wyatt gave his brother a look. He knew he had recognized that acrid smell as something besides vanquishing smoke. Now he knew. "Damien," he warned in a hard voice. "Did I legalize m--" but he cut the sentence off abruptly, cocking his head to the side as though hearing something. There was something, an absence of something, at the edge of his mind that left too large a hole to go unnoticed. Something was missing. Then it hit him. "Chris," he hissed as he felt his little brother gone from the building. He sensed the surrounding area and also found Bianca missing from her rooms. To say he was angry right then would have been the understatement of the year. He was _livid_.

He stood from his seat at the head of the long table and announced quietly, "This meeting is over."

Though his voice was barely above a whisper, it carried through the silent room and the effect was immediate. Every demon shimmered out, leaving only Wyatt and Damien, who also rose.

"Wyatt, what--"

But the eldest held up a hand, immediately silencing the younger. "Damien, I swear if you had anything to do with this, _so help you God_…"

"Do with what?" asked Damien, bewildered. He was giving him a look as if asking for verification of sanity. "Wyatt… you're angry. And extremely powerful. And you've had a stressful day. Please don't kill anyone." Pause. Then, "… important." Another pause, and then, "Ah, hell. Go on a killing spree if it rubs your Buddha."

He took another sip of beer, honestly unperturbed, as usual. Wyatt's scowl darkened. Okay, so maybe Damien really didn't know what was going on, but 'rubs your Buddha'? What the heck…?

But now was not the time to be decoding the origins of strange metaphors. Still unsure whether he had Damien's loyalty or not, Wyatt commanded in a deadly cold voice, "Vanquish the guards that were supposed to be posted outside Christopher and Bianca's rooms-- if there are any left to vanquish. And the same with the guards at the exists. Then stay here and await further commands. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," replied Damien indifferently, then looked down at his empty bottle and his expression became mournful. Wyatt ignored that and flamed out. Damien stood up and muttered, "Right after I get another beer…"

**

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A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed! I updated in, like, three days just so I wouldn't get my throat slit by a certain reviewer... winkwink... Anyway, and I couldn't help but update on 06-06-06. At 6 o'clock. Heh. Leave it to me to base something on that, no matter how Christian I am... Anyway... more Charmed Ones next chappie. REVIEW!**


	29. Charmed Alright

**Disclaimer: I disclaim Charmed. **

**WARNING: Spoilers for whatever the last season was. If you don't want to know who Paige marries, don't read this. **

**A/N: Anyone who's looking for another Charmed fic should check out The Long Suffering Angel by Crazy8ball. It's fascinating and inspired my own 'Kitty'. --Read this chapter and you'll see what I mean.**

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* * *

Closing his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted, Chris turned and faced the people that had the audacity to call themselves his parents. _

"What do you want?" he asked coldly, immediately knowing the spell, power, whatever, had been removed. They wouldn't hurt him and he didn't know them. Things evened out in his mind.

"Chris…" his father began, and Chris unconsciously put out the flame that lit inside his at hearing his father call him by his nickname. He was Christopher to this man. That was how he told friend from foe in his mind. Christopher and Chris. No one was ever allowed to use both. Especially not these people. "God, son, I am so sorry. I… we… it was never… _God, we're sorry_," he ended at a whisper. Tears were running down both the adults' cheeks and Chris wasn't remotely surprised to find that he didn't feel one bit sorry for their pain.

On the contrary. "You're sorry?" he repeated bluntly. "Sorry? What the hell do you think that word means to me? Sorry-- as in _pathetic_, yes you are. Sorry as in worthless screw-ups, _yes, you are! _But sorry as in you are apologizing? Sorry as in, you expect me to understand and forgive you? _I can count the number of times you forgave me when I said I was sorry on one hand!"_

"Chris, it wasn't us!" Piper said desperately, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. "We had no power over what happened. We were just as helpless about it as--"

"As I was?" Chris finished coldly, crossing his arms. He let the statement echo in the silence that followed emotionlessly, not hating himself for feeling the satisfaction he felt at their desperate, guilty, and pained expressions. After another moment, still before he personally felt they had suffered enough, he sighed deeply and glanced away, asking in a steely voice, "What were you possibly hoping to accomplish by following me out here?"

He watched coldly as the couple exchanged looks. He could feel the pain and guilt rolling off them like ocean waves in a hurricane and honestly didn't care. They deserved to feel this way. It was about time they realized how bad they'd screwed up. He knew it had taken _him _way too long to figure out he hadn't done anything wrong, but this was just ridiculous.

"Chris…" murmured Piper softly, swimming eyes seeking his behind the sunglasses imploringly. "Baby, please understand--"

"I am not your baby," Chris cut her off icily.

The woman visibly flinched beneath the harsh tone, harsh reality, but kept trying anyway. "Chris, please _try _to understand _it wasn't us!_ We are not responsible for anything! It was all the Elders' fault. If it weren't for them, you would have been happy, sweetie. I promise you would have been happy. _Promise_," she ended in the feeblest voice he'd ever heard from the woman. One of the broken-est he'd ever heard from any woman, period. Her eyes were looking at him so sadly, so desperately he couldn't help how his heart and mind both told him to loosen up on them.

He sighed again. He looked at the wall to his left, then looked at the floor for a moment, then finally back to his parents. They were watching him, waiting for him, such hope and pleading in their eyes, expressions… hearts. "I understand," he managed to say at last, unable to look them in the eyes. He adjusted his shoulders uncomfortably, changing his crossed arms slightly so that he looked more insecure than defiant, now. "I know you're good people… I know that you probably wouldn't have hurt me if not for the Elders. I _know_."

He empathically felt their hearts soar and relief flood through them so much he toyed with the notion of it drowning them. Metaphorically speaking, of course… Ah, what the heck. He admitted to himself that he was thinking about it literally drowning their sorry asses.

"So… so you think you can… you can forgive us?" asked Piper, hardly able to speak through her combined hope and anticipation. Her eyes were shining.

Chris' eyes slowly came up from their spot on the floor. Looking her square in the face, he said, "No." At their shocked expressions, he explained without emotion, "I said I understood. But, because of you and the screwed up company you surrounded yourself with, my entire life was, and will continue to be, a living hell. Sorry, but forgiveness is divine and I'm an angel only by birth."

The two adults stared at him, mouths hanging open 'sophisticatedly'. Chris doubted they were going to say much after that, and he didn't care to hear them anyway, so he turned and walked away again.

It was only when he was completely out of sight, out of earshot, that his heart shattered and his walls crumbled.

For the hundredth time within the last 24 hours, Chris felt emotions slam into him, but this time they hit him like a 5, 000 pound truck, even through the potion he'd only partially lied to Cole about. He could restrain his calmed powers better with that potion because it was supposed to calm his emotions, too. It was supposed to restrain them, to some extent. This didn't feel like restrained emotions to him.

It felt like he was… _drowning _in them. Hundreds of pounds of water… emotions… pressing down on him from every side. Like he was trying to kick his way to the surface, to oxygen, but something was always pulling him down, no matter how hard he thrashed against it. And there was nobody to extend a hand and pull him out… because there was nobody he trusted with his life… his secrets… his anguish anymore.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall behind him. The wall was hard. Flat. Unyielding. He allowed himself to slide down it until he had sunk to the floor. This wall wouldn't change because of emotions. There wasn't anything to call it away for more important stuff… And he wasn't afraid of leaning his entire weight against it. This wall was his new best friend, he decided. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to break the news to Paris… who was PMS-ing to the point that she terrified him at the moment. Poor Joden, trying to ease her outbursts.

Chris took another deep breath, trying to fight his way to the surface of the emotions. The weight of them was worse than the weight of the world tonight… this morning, actually. It was probably about six in the morning, two days after his seventeenth birthday. His birthday… damn brain, pulling up more bad birthday memories for him… _The first on without Jess… the way his aunts had to sneak him parties because they knew Piper would never allow them… 'Birthday spankings'… the newly acquired forgotten birthday_…

Honestly, people had three ways they could remember his and Jessie's birthday. One: They just remember his. Two: They remember Jess' and then remember they were twins, so they realized it's his birthday, too. Three: They just remember the damn date. Come on, what else happens in November worth remembering? It's a cold, desolate month. No one cares about November.

"Hey, get up," said a bright voice. Bianca's bright voice. Bianca _had _a bright voice?

"What the…" he said aloud at that notion. It was a… strange… concept, to say the least.

"Come on, I could sense your self-pity a mile away," she said lightly, taking his hand without asking and forcefully yanked on it. "I'm not letting you do that because you're stronger than breaking, _now get up_!"

"Mrgh," Chris complained incoherently, not wanting to get up and face this girl. It was much easier just sitting here and fighting through these nightmarish emotions on his own, with his eyes closed to the outside world. Well… maybe not as easy as ignoring them, suppressing them, would be. He was good at that, and with _Bianca _as company… he'd be forced to, anyway. He was just deciding that he would get up, when he was left no choice in the matter-- Bianca had actually succeeded in jerking him bodily to his feet.

"Whoa," he stated, surprised. "Damn girl, weight training?"

Bianca gave him a look. "Jujitsu practice, thank you. And it's not like you weigh more than ninety pounds, anyway. Seriously, do you _ever _eat?"

"Of course I eat," Chris snapped, suddenly able to imagine his hand smacking her upside the head very clearly. "Do you _ever _have a civil conversation? With _anyone_?"

"Of course I do," she snapped right back. "I--"

But whatever she was going to add was cut short as there came a squeal of, "KITTY!" and a pink blur tackled Chris to the ground. Bianca gaped, surprised, and Chris squeaked, pained.

"Rosie!" he gasped, struggling to untangle himself from his cousin's bone crushing hug so he could breathe. "Rose-- air-- good-- suffocation-- bad-- _Thank you_," he ended as the younger teen let go, blushing. He leaned back from his position on the ground to observe Phoebe's daughter, Primrose.

She looked a lot like her mother and father-- both their dark hair, Cole's light eyes, Phoebe's tan complexion. The indisputable Halliwell cheekbones. Piper's nose that reddened when she cried… And now she was looking homicidal.

The fifteen year old smacked him in the arm, not good-naturedly. "You brat!" she yelled. "You were planning to leave without seeing us-- _me_-- again, weren't you? _Weren't you_?"

"Rose-- I--" Chris began hastily, but Bianca cut him off, holding up her hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, wrinkling her nose in confusion. She faced Primrose. "Did you just call him _Kitty_?" Rose nodded brightly, but threw Chris a filthy look, beneath which he withered. Bianca stared, bewildered. "_Why_?"

"Because," said Rose lightly. "He's like a cat-- you could turn his entire world upside down and he'd still land on his feet." She smacked him in the arm again, still glaring, before getting to her feet. She offered Chris a hand up and he accepted warily. Primrose could be like Damien if she had a mind to be… and she normally had a mind to be. Chris loved her to death, but she could be a dangerous young lady when things weren't going her way, and when it came to Chris… Chris didn't like telling her everything she wanted to know. So things with him didn't normally go her way.

Bianca leveled a sneer at Chris. "How many nicknames do you have, _Christopher_?"

Chris felt like smashing Bianca's head through his new best friend-- the wall. It may be solid, but with a comment like that… he could definitely made it cave. No question about it.

"Well," began Rose, seeming not to see the rhetorical-ness behind Bianca's question. "There's Chris, Chrissy, Christine with Dad, Christy-pher, Creeper --which he still won't tell me how he got--, Starlighter because of that whole house arrest thing, but I don't get why they just didn't go with Moonlighter 'cause we all know he does drugs so probably drinks, too, then there's--"

"Rose, shut up!" Chris exclaimed, staring at his cousin with a newfound wonder. She had said all that in one breath. Even Wyatt couldn't do that, and Wyatt was a talker. Of course, he was a thinker, too, but he could talk while thinking, so… he got some work done, let's just say.

Rose glared at him. "Fine then, _Kitty_," she all but spat. "But I'm kidnapping you and we're all going to the family breakfast together. Is that clear, my now-eldest cousin?"

"Now-eldest? What, Wyatt doesn't count just because he's--" Chris cut the sentence off just in time to realize that Rose had no idea Wyatt was the Source. Phoebe wouldn't have told her. Chris paused in his thoughts to consider a certain point-- Phoebe sucked at keeping secrets. How could she not tell her daughter that her nephew was evil beyond words?

"Wyatt's dead, Chris," Rose said softly, sounding confused and reluctant. "I'm sorry… I thought you knew that. He was off demon hunting just a few weeks after you disappeared from Grandpa's… he never came back."

Chris gaped How could Phoebe let Rose believe Wyatt was dead? How could this girl not know that Wyatt had caused this war-- this war that was the reason she even had to live in this safe house in the first place? That was just… just… Chris didn't know the English word for what this was. Something like blasphemy, he supposed. He knew the word in Elder-ish, as these people called it, was _liguta_. But that doesn't really help these readers, because they don't know Elder-ish.

Chris opened his mouth to protest her information, but stopped himself. He would annoy Phoebe into doing it herself. Rose was her responsibility, not his. He shook his head, ignoring the look Bianca was giving him, and turned to his oldest cousin. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he looked her seriously in the face. "Rose, you know I love you guys and everything, right?" She nodded. "Okay. But I can't stay here long enough for breakfast. Me and the others from the Resistance have to leave before we compromise this location, okay?"

Cole's blue-green eyes stared at him from his cousin's face. _"You work for the Resistance?" _she whined at last, shocked and envious. "That is _not _cool! I'm only a year and a half younger than you and I can't even go outside in the campus' garden without adult supervision!" She took a deep breath and yelled, "DADDY!" at the top of her lungs.

Cole instantly shimmered in, concern washed over all his features. "Rose, sweetheart, what is-- Chris? What are you--?"

"Well, I'm half witch, half whitelighter, see?" answered Chris with feigned innocence. "Not that shocking, actually…"

"No, that's not what I-- I mean, what happened? I thought you'd still be with them. You didn't leave but twenty minutes ago," Cole was staring at him, thoroughly perplexed. Chris could vaguely recall that Phoebe thought he was extremely cute when that look came onto his face. Chris wouldn't know.

"Well…" he began, his mien dreamy just for the effect. He knew he wasn't really going to try to think of something to say. He wasn't going to try to remember. There was too much work to do with the war and everything without his own personal drama getting in the way. "We learned some stuff and then I hope the ones from the past sent Piper and Leo back to the hereafter and Elderland." Cole gave him a look and Chris became incredulous. Of all that he was learning, his uncle was most concerned about him calling his parents by their first names. He sighed, aggravated, when the look didn't let up. "Fine. I hope they sent _Mother and Father dearest _to where ever the hell they summoned them from. Happy?"

"Very," replied Cole easily and didn't push the subject. Chris was grateful for that much, at least. He didn't want to discuss what he'd found out in front of Bianca and Primrose. As a matter of fact, he didn't want to discuss it in front of _anyone_… He just didn't want to discuss it.

They began walking again, not really knowing where they were going. Cole had managed to ease a lot of tension by placing himself between Rose and Chris, and draped an arm over each their shoulders casually. And, also casually, he said to Chris, "You know, you _are _staying to have breakfast with us, whether you like it or not. Invite your team, if you want, but you are coming."

Chris glared, but Bianca smirked. "Yeah," she commented, eyes lit with mischief. "I'm sure they'd love to see who you're related to… Halliwell."

Chris opened his mouth, but nothing came out for the second time that day as he paused thoughtfully. Then, "You know," he stated conversationally. "You'd think they'd have figured it out after five months… I mean, all they'd have to do is look in any modern book about magic and they'd find a Warren-Halliwell family tree. They know I have a brother named Damien, a sister named Jessica, and my name is Chris… Not that hard."

Rose sneered. "Your own _Resistance team _doesn't know you're a Halliwell? What, don't you trust them?"

Chris shot her a sidelong look behind his sunglasses, smirking. "Rose, here I was thinking you were able to dodge empathy, especially with Phoebe as your mom." At her arched eyebrow, he said with an open grin, "Your jealousy is all over the place."

Rose leaned over Cole to smack him in the arm again and Chris laughed. "Nicole, your daughter is abusive," he complained lightly and had to duck beneath the next strike that would have been upside his head.

Cole rolled his eyes. "Christine, I honestly believe you could take her."

"Hey!" exclaimed Rose as Chris and Bianca both laughed. She smacked her father's arm good-naturedly. "You're supposed to take your daughter's side, man!"

Cole held up his hands in surrender and promised to bare that in mind next time, though the look on his face suggested otherwise. It wasn't unnoticed by his daughter, which sent Chris and Bianca into more laughter.

Not long afterwards, the four came to the college's cafeteria and Cole pushed the door open. The hall was huge. There were at least two dozen long tables and a bar in the back. Dishes of breakfast foods were spread out over every table and everything was lit by the brilliantly shining light of dawn. Already, in this early hour, the place was bustling. Cole led the way expertly to a table near the back right beside the wall of windows.

There, they found almost every Halliwell/Matthews assembled, moving about comfortably, getting food and putting it on plates, talking and laughing, horse playing and whispering. Paige and Prue were joking around over the pancake plate, Phoebe was trying to get her youngest daughter to not pour syrup in her big brother's hair, Henry (Paige's husband) and his son were talking about something serious and completely ignoring their plates, Penny (Grams) was having a heated discussion with Andy (Trudeau), and Patty (Charmed Ones' mother) was welcoming the ones from the past to the table while trying to hold onto a little girl's (Paige's daughter's) hand.

The talking immediately ceased when Cole, Primrose, Chris, and Bianca appeared. There was a moment's silence as the ones at the table tried to register their long-lost nephew/grandson/great-grandson/cousin's presence and Chris felt slightly guilty. His being at a family get-together shouldn't be such a drama, and he knew it was his fault for losing contact with them during the five months he'd been at the Resistance… and that partial year with Wy…

The silence only lasted long enough for him to think that, however, as the three littlest ones sprang forth and tackled the boy to the ground with squeals of delight. Everyone else laughed.

As soon as Chris had gotten back to his feet, holding the five year old girl, Palomah, Paige's daughter, in his arms, the scene got very confusing. "Ooo, Chris, is this your girlfriend?" asked the four year old Petra, tugging on Bianca's hand for attention.

"I love her hair, it's so perdy!" squealed Palomah, jumping out of his arms to go admire Bianca's curly, streaked black and blonde hair. "You should marry her!"

"Chris!" whined the five year old Porter. "Mom made me eat carrots yesterday! _Yesterday_, and it was a _Thursday_! Chris, you have to yell at her."

"Phoebe," Chris said in a scolding voice, looking at the one from his time. "What have I told you about carrots and Porter?"

The older woman bristled. "What? He ate them the day before yesterday!"

"Because it was _Wednesday_," he replied as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Phoebe looked confused. "So why wouldn't he eat them yesterday?"

"Yesterday was Thursday, 'cause you see, the days of the week change everyday, Phoebe," Chris explained with feigned good-patience. At Phoebe's look of daggers he continued, "Porter only eats carrots and eggplants on Wednesday. Honestly, woman. And you call yourself his mother." He shook his head sadly and Porter positively beamed-- before he was swept off his feet by his loving father and carried to his mother.

Then, with a little help from Primrose, Chris and Bianca managed to maneuver their way to the table to face the happily surprised adults (and one older cousin). Bianca was accepted by the females at once and was placed between Phoebe and Patty where conversation immediately started up. Chris would never get how girls could always socialize so easily with no common background, but didn't have time to contemplate it long as he was suddenly engulfed in a tight (manly) hug from his uncle, parole officer, Henry.

"Hey Chris," he said as they pulled apart and looked each other over. "So, you still testing the boundaries of the law?"

Chris grinned sheepishly. "What law?" he asked innocently enough, forcing a laugh from the man.

Then the other uncle that happened to be an officer of the law, Prue's husband, Inspector Andy Trudeau, came up and clapped him on the back. "What do you mean 'what law'?" he asked with a grin before pulling Chris into a hug, too. "I hope you don't think that just because it's war means you can go looting stores."

"Looting stores? Nah. Just hotwiring an occasional… _pre-owned _car to get away from crazy demons… that sort of thing." Chris grinned at his deceased uncle's shocked look and asked with a suppressed laugh, "Don't tell me that's illegal?"

Andy shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Nowadays? Not at all."

"Oo-oo-oo!" exclaimed Phoebe from the future. "My turn!" The woman leaned across the food-filled table to wrap her nephew in a spine-splitting embrace. When she finally pulled apart and sat back down, people were laughing at her eagerness. She ignored them. "So, you look alive, that's good-- that is good, isn't it? Oh, that's very good! I'm so happy you're here! You're planning to stay this time, right? Like, take a vacation and actually have someone take care of you-- you're staying, right?"

"I dunno, maybe I'll stay for an hour or two more…"

This was met with exclamations of incredulity and almost immediately brushed off as him just being insane (again). Chris couldn't help but smile into his plate. It had been a long time since he'd had people that cared about him like this. People at the Resistance were friendly (for the most part) and certainly would do what they could if he asked for their help (which he never did), and he was sure his team would follow him to the end of the earth… but they weren't like his family. They didn't pamper him and make him believe they knew best. This was a good feeling…

"Do I get another hug?" asked Paige of the future, batting her eyelashes at him in an attempt at puppy dog eyes. Chris sighed theatrically before nodding, conceding. She squealed and also leaned across the table to pull him into a bone crushing hug. "It's good to see you're okay, really, honey," she said after pulling away. But she was giving him a knowing look and he immediately knew that she knew about Free Style. That thought made him squirm slightly in his seat.

Phoebe and Paige of the past, taking this as their turn, instantly jumped to their feet and tried to tackle hug him, too, but Chris' intangibility finally kicked in and they fell straight through him and landed in Cole's lap. Paige instantly squeaked an 'ew' and got back to her feet, eyeing his uncle with distrust, and Phoebe took a moment longer, accepting Cole's help up while looking torn. He offered his to-be wife a small, understanding smile. Phoebe reluctantly returned it. Chris could see the chemistry between them, even from different times, experiences, and situations. He suppressed an 'ew' himself when he thought they were going to start making out in front of everyone.

Luckily, his aunt (and Cole's wife) butted in at that moment and broke them up with psycho babble that only her past self could make heads or tails of. He briefly wondered what it was like for them to see each other when they were this far in time apart. Whenever he and Wyatt would get stuck in the past, it was either before he was born, or just a year or so in the past so he knew exactly what was going on. These two were seventeen years apart… or more.

Then, like most large family get-togethers are, it became chaos once more. Then Victor arrived and he instantly found the ones from the past. Only Chris noticed the man's eyes grow wide and mutter, "Piper," with relief and joy, until he also found Chris. His expression became torn as he wondered whether he should separate the two, but Chris gave him a promising-like smile, assuring everything was alright. Victor took it as just that, and ran to pull his 'formerly' dead daughter into a hug. She returned it with a somewhat amused smile. She had seen him not too long ago.

When at last he pulled back and looked at her properly, he noticed something up with her appearance. She grinned fully now. "I'm from the past, Dad. Year 2004."

His mouth made an 'o' of comprehension. The others just laughed and started their eating and talking like nothing was weird. Chris knew from experience that this was nothing for them and they had no problem socializing because of it. He, however, wasn't finding it so easy to fit in. His empathy was still out of whack and he felt himself unintentionally tapping into his family's powers… and Phoebe and all three of her children had telepathy. And Chris was only able to control telepathy through bonds (AKA: Wyatt and used-to-be Jessie), therefore, he could hear how everyone's thoughts kept wandering back to him every two seconds. Never before had he been so at the mercy of everyone's thoughts and feelings as he was now.

_Oh, God, I hope he's got someone looking after him properly_. _He doesn't care enough about himself to take the time to keep healthy without someone on his ass about it_… --- Paige.

_Where has he been? He looks like he hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years… What's going on in his head? How come he can block my telepathy and empathy but I can't dodge his? Not cool. I should probably bring up powers to see if he has any questions… Piper sure as hell never let him practice it, so he's only really been a witch two or three years and we were so vulnerable when we were that new to it_… ---Phoebe.

_I'm going to put sleeping pills in his drink and once he's out cold, I'm going to tie him up and lock him in a room here, where it's safe and he'll have people who actually give a damn about him_… _That kid's not getting out of this place_… -- Cole. The man physically smirked.

_I am definitely going to help Cole with whatever plot he's thinking up to keep that kid here against his will… heehee. He's not leaving this safe house. _-- Henry. He glanced over, saw Cole's smirk, and smirked himself.

_I hope we did right, sending his parents back to the afterlife and Elderland… God, he's going to hate us forever… We have to change this… Have to… I wonder where Chris is and why he hasn't gotten back yet… How could he not tell us we were his parents? How could we not see that he was abused? Ugh… I hate being so helpless… We'll probably have to summon him. Please, God, don't let him be hurt… I'm going to kill Bianca if she hurt him_… --- Piper from the past. Of course, according to that thought, there was no longer a Piper of this future… Chris vaguely wondered what that last part was about. Gotten back yet? From where? He was right across the table from her! And Bianca… How could his mother know about her? And what did she mean 'hurt him'?

Well, whatever she meant, he could feel how worried she was. For the first time, he started wondering if he actually might be able to _forgive _her… or her future self. But… nine years. Nine years. They had had that long to fight the damn spell/power, yet it only got worse. Where were his real parents those nine years? Why didn't they fight it? Why didn't they realize what was happening when it started up the second time, after he had been 'drowned'? Why didn't they… why…

Chris closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. A peaceful breakfast with an oblivious family was not the place to break down. When he opened his eyes, however, he was surprised to find everyone staring at him. He was instantly back to 'normal'. "What?" he asked, bewildered, inciting a laugh from most of his cousins.

Phoebe gave him a look. She had obviously been the one talking to him. "I asked about how your powers are coming along, now that you get to practice being 'super witch' with Prue," she repeated with a slight smile, but Chris could feel her concern.

He sighed theatrically, but used the woman's telepathy to send, _What the heck are you on about? _

He didn't miss her incredulous, affronted flash of feelings for having her powers violated like that when she couldn't his. In his head, he heard her reply, _Any new powers? I know about the telekinesis, intangibility, and that memory thing. You manifest the rest of Prue's powers yet?-- _hint of a smirk.

_I can astral project memories, now,_ he sent back, hiding his own smirk. Everyone always teased him about taking after Prue so much, but it was fun when he could use it against them_. And I astral projected a split personality that totally kicked my ass a few weeks ago… but that was just weird_.

_Split personality? Like when Prue's astral self crashed Piper and Leo's wedding? What do you mean?_

Chris smile physically. The people at the table were still waiting for him to answer. The other telepaths had no idea of the silent conversation, courtesy of Phoebe knowing how to cloak her power. He had to admit-- she was good. Charmed alright. _I mean, I was mentally killing myself about losing so many innocents, then I astral projected my angry side who basically kicked my ass for being weak. Not fun. I blamed it on a past life so the Resistance wouldn't think I was losing my mind. Anything else you want to know while you have access to my head?_

Phoebe physically gave him a soft smile. "Chris, we lose innocents sometimes. It's hard, but if you can't save them, then they weren't meant to be saved. You have to believe that. Or else, how are you ever going to sleep at night?"

Chris laughed at the last part, but hastily covered it up by saying lightly, "Gee, thanks for blowing our cover, Aunt Pheebs."

"Hey!" said Prue, realizing what was going on. "No telepathy at the table!"

Phoebe glowered. "I blame it on Chris' not knowing the rule."

Chris grinned. "Oh, I've known about it; but you can blame it on my not caring."

Phoebe stuck out her tongue at him. Chris laughed again. Charmed alright.

**

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A/N: I know, there wasn't a lot of 'meat' to this chapter. I needed some fluff after last chapter and before the next one. And don't worry, I'm getting the Charmed Ones back with their Chris soon. Maybe in the next addition, then there will only be about two more chapters. Over thirty chapters… wow. Review and tell me what you think, remind me what loose ends I've completely forgotten about… PLEASE REVIEW! **


	30. The Confusing Chapter

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters in this chapter but Paris, and she's not even really there anyway so what's the point of pointing out that I own her? Anyway… hey, I own the dead New Nirvana victims, too, but… they're not there, either… Wow this is going to be a strange and confusing chapter, you can already tell. Anyway… **

**Dedicated to Alexander "Alex" "Lex" Eavestone: March 3, 1991 - June 17, 2005. The boy I firmly believe could slam a revolving door. **Happy… sad… first death day. A year… 52 weeks… 365 days… Yesterday or a lifetime ago, but not a year. Anyway, since I think I'm finally getting over you, I think I can admit to the world that yes, I was the one who drew the Hitler mustache on your funeral picture… and connected your eyebrows… and wrote that the funeral arrangements were done by 23 trained llamas… Eh, I know I'm going to Hell for it, but you know it was funny!

* * *

_In the Farthest Future where Chris is insane and Wyatt is very angry and Damien is about to get really drunk. On with the story:_

Wyatt flamed out with every intention of going straight to the Manor and killing Bianca and throwing Chris back into the memory, but once he got there, the museum was empty. They hadn't arrived yet.

He growled in frustration and conjured a high voltage fireball, throwing it through the roof even as he did so. He stared at the spot it went through, panting heavily in his gradually dissipating rage. _Come on Wyatt_, he thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out. _You are better than letting your emotions get the best of you. Now calm down and think about this. _

He took one last deep breath and released it slowly. His mind was clearing, now, and he realized he wouldn't even have to place Chris back in that memory… There were many other options that had so much more… _class _than that. So many other things that weren't completely overused and dull to stand by and watch. So many things he could participate in himself… and watch the shock and pain flood into Chris' eyes all at once when he realized what was happening…

Wyatt sighed, pushing that last thought from his mind. He lifted a hand and raked it through his curly blonde hair, trying to not feel the stress that always seemed to be tugging away at the corners of his mind nowadays. He had to remind himself that he didn't like to see the shock and pain in Chris' eyes… that was the Source's powers trying to bend his thoughts and feelings again. Evil power did that a lot of the time… He had to remind himself that he still loved his little brother and wanted him to join him again. But if that boy kept crossing him…

Wyatt suppressed another growl and covered up the sudden angry beating of his heart with a sigh. This would be the last time his little brother crossed him. This had to be done to keep Chris… _indisposed_. To keep him from fighting him. From fighting the whole damn world… This had to be done.

Wyatt took another calming breath… and called the shape-shifters.

---------------------------------------------------

Chris watched with weary eyes as his ex-fiancée peeked around the corner of a neighbor's house to see if the coast straight to the Manor was clear. The voices of the deceased echoed hollowly, ceaselessly in his ears and he had to close his eyes and squash them yet again. He couldn't afford the distraction at the moment. He had to help Bianca. He had to protect her from the angry Wyatt he knew would be waiting as soon as they got there. _He could not let them distract him_.

"Okay, come on," whispered Bianca, taking his hand and leading the way quickly to the back door. As much as he didn't want to be distracted, however, he still felt distracted from his vigilance by the fact that her hand was warm. Why were so few peoples' hands warm these days?

There was a pause in his thoughts as though they themselves were not quite able to believe they had just thought that. _Duh_. Because evils' temperatures were cold to the touch, and everyone in this world was evil or dead. Dead people's hands were cold, too… Hallucinations, though… he wasn't quite sure. He didn't think hallucinations had warm hands. After all, they were creations of his mind, and his mind was colder than freaking ice most of the time.

"Chris, did you hear me?" Bianca's voice cut through his drifting thoughts. Again. She tugged on his hand after picking the lock on the door, trying to get his attention.

"What?" Chris asked, blushing slightly at his own (lack of) attention span. This was such a frickin' horrible day, it was definitely going down in the books…

Bianca just shook her head and led the way inside, trusting he would follow. Chris felt something in his heart clutch. She put up with so much from him, he had no idea how she was still on good terms with him. _Maybe that's why she agreed to marry my brother_, he mused thoughtfully. Then, _Oh my God, Monica and Logan!_

"Bianca," he whispered as they went through the only-too-familiar basement and started quietly up the wooden stairs. "What happened to Monica and Logan? Did they really… are they…?" He couldn't finish the question.

Bianca froze in mid step, her back to him. There was silence. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her brown eyes glossy. She blinked the tears back. "Chris…" she began softly. "Monica… she held on as long as she could but… her husband had given away their baby to you to raise, you know, and she… she had nothing left."

"Monica killed herself," Chris breathed, thinking back to the silver-eyed, laughing girl that had spent so much time at the manor with Wyatt. She must have done it before he went to the past, too, and he hadn't even heard about it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He couldn't lose it again. So why had he asked? He knew the answer would be bad… it always was… "And Logan?"

Bianca blinked a few more times and swallowed hard. "He wouldn't stay with me after you left. He orbed back to Wyatt. He's still too young to understand why his daddy wants him to do things that _Uncle Chris _said were bad… So Wyatt's convincing him that you were… mistaken. Logan's… not a sweet little angel anymore, Chris…"

One word was running through Chris' mind. It wasn't a nice word. Never was. He'd actually taught it to Logan by accident. Who knew little two or three year olds were like parrots, repeating everything they heard-- and with exuberance, too. Eh, he'd managed to convince the kid that he shouldn't say it when he was in civil company. That had led to a whole new mess of questions, too…

"_Chris, help us! Please, don't let the take my baby! Please, Chris!" _screamed some voice in his head. Yet another dead innocent he'd probably known…

"_No, please God, no-- don't hurt her! Please, don't hurt my little girl! Not my little angel…"_

"_Please, no-- don't. Mommy said that was bad, please don't… don't hurt me… Mommy said…"_

"Chris, snap out of it, baby," came Bianca's firm voice, sounding like it was muffled, trying to reach him through the voices like trying to swim through glue. "Come on, they're not real, make them leave. They're not real. Come on, baby."

Chris mentally forced the voices back yet again. This was getting… _ridiculous_, for lack of a better, more sensitive word. He couldn't keep doing this.

His glamoured blue-green eyes looked up to find Bianca watching him with concern. They were still standing on the stairs, which was a relief seeing as he hated finding himself in a different place when he had no idea how he got there. He offered her a weak smile, which was the best he could come up with at the moment. She returned one of her own and began up the stairs again.

Chris could feel how worried she was. How determined she was. He could feel how much she loved him. He felt his heart clutch again. God, he didn't deserve her. She didn't deserve this…

The kitchen was empty. They sped through it, ducking under the red ropes without hesitation until they were making their way up the stairs to the attic. The attic was completely empty. Bianca conjured a piece of white chalk and raced to the wall to draw the triquetta.

"Please tell me you remember the spell," she said, stopping suddenly to turn and look at him.

Chris felt his heart drop like a shard of ice into his stomach. _Oh shit_. He had remembered it only a few hours ago when Damien was helping… but now it was buried under the more prominent voices of the deceased. Not willing to let the love of his life down, Chris closed his eyes and concentrated on remembering the page in the book. He had almost complete power over memories. He could find that page in his mind. He knew he could.

As soon as he began digging, the memory of his last Aunt's death shot up into the forefront of his mind. He immediately cringed out of it, eyes fluttering open in protest. Bianca was watching him with concern. Again. He took another breath and closed his eyes. He had to rewind that memory to the point where Wyatt was putting him into it. Then he'd be able to search his past mind for it.

Oh, no. Paige screaming her last scream; Prue shedding her last tear; the cousins… all the cousins sobbing with their mothers… his uncles, trying to be strong for their families… his team… defiant and rebellious to the very end. And Paris… oh God, Paris…

"_Wyatt, st-stop," gasped a seventeen year old Chris through the ragged sobs. Tears poured freely down his cheeks mixing with the pool of blood that covered the entire floor… inches deep. He was chained to wall with anti-magic cuffs… His friends and family's corpses… pieces… lay strewn about him… all who were left were the two greylighters… both already looking pathetic after watching all their kin being tortured… slaughtered. Both with tear stained faces and hoarse, burning throats. "Please… d-don't, Wyatt. I'll t-tell you… please don't k-kill th-them, too…"_

"_Chris, no!" cried Paige hoarsely, tears still spilling down her cheeks. Passion, despaired passion blazed furiously in her eyes. "I did not just watch my family, my_ children **die** _for you to give up now! You do _not_ tell him, Christopher. Don't you_ dare!"

_The boy just shook his head; he had been numb as his uncles and cousins were tortured and killed barbarically, but now the pain was coming back. He couldn't… wouldn't… survive watching everyone… these last two people he had in the world besides Victor… Grandpa… die. He couldn't lose them… all the goodness from his childhood he had left… He couldn't watch them die…_

"_Chris, baby," wept Prue, eyes so blurred over with tears it was hard to see their color. She was trying to smile but the effect was lost on everyone… More tears just continued to flood. "You have to be strong, baby. You have to be strong. I promise you'll be okay if you're just strong for this…it's just… just me and Paige and everything… everything will get… will get…" easier. She was supposed to say easier. But she couldn't force the word out. Couldn't force her voice to speak anymore lies… She just cried. And Wyatt held the newly conjured atheme to her throat._

"_You were saying?" his voice prompted icily, threateningly. His baby brother hesitated, desperate, haunted eyes trying to find strength in his last aunts' gazes… Wyatt stabbed the dagger through Prue's abdomen and began to slowly drag and twist it upward. The woman didn't scream; Paige sobbed harder, and Chris broke._

"_New Nirvana is by Lansing, Wisconsin!" he shouted desperately, voice breaking. "Now, h-heal her. Please, W-Wyatt… heal… her… Please…" his voice broke off as his and Wyatt's eyes met, Wyatt's searching for the truth. He found it, and to Chris' immediate relief, pulled out the atheme that had stopped at Prue's sternum. Then he stabbed it back through her throat. _

_Chris and Paige both screamed in shock and despair… but Wyatt merely smirked and summoned a demon. "Send the dragons to Lansing, along with every mid and upper level demon not already engaged. Leave none alive," he added with the coldest smile Chris had ever seen in his life. _

"You bastard!" screamed Chris, voice breaking all over again, tears spilling anew. "You can't-- cant'-- _how dare you? _What do you-- no, no, no, no, no… you aren't… can't…"

"_Chris, Prue told you to be strong, we have to be strong," said Paige, though it was more like a whimper. So much crying. So much silent crying… "Be **strong**…"_

"No, no… can't… please don't leave me," Chris whispered. "Don't leave me, too…"

"Chris, I'm not going anywhere," said Paige, suddenly firmly. Chris stared at her, then… it wasn't Paige. "Come on, baby, snap out of it. You are not back there again. You're in the manor, in the attic, and we're sending you back to the past to save everyone… everything. Come on, it'll be alright, baby. Just snap out of it…"

Chris blinked furiously, blocking out the sounds of Paige… the sounds of this world shattering around him… blocking out the stench of the blood he was practically drowning in… blocking out the death and hopelessness… "Bianca?" he whispered hoarsely, trying to force his way out of the memory. He still couldn't find her face through… through the chamber… the dungeon chamber…

"Yes, sweetie, it's me," said the voice, slowly sounding more like his lover's and less like his aunt's.. He felt a hand, a warm hand, caress his cheek. "Come on, baby. It's okay. Just… wake up, okay? It's just a bad dream. It's all just a bad dream… Come on, sweetheart. Wake up, now."

Slowly, so slowly, the chamber began to fade from his vision, dissolving into the familiar Halliwell attic. There was Bianca, kneeling in front of him with a loving smile, and behind her…

Chris' eyes snapped fully open and he crawled backwards hastily. He didn't remember falling to the floor, but he sure as heck was there, now. Behind his girlfriend, there stood Prue, Phoebe, Paige, and… Paris. None of them bloodied and beaten, or burned and shredded. They were corporeal and… smiling, loving. They were not possible.

"No, no, no, not real," he murmured, his clambering backwards stopped suddenly as he hit the wall. His breath was caught in his throat, eyes frozen wide in shock… in desperation. "Stop it, stop. Don't… don't do this, you're not real. Not here. You're dead… dead, dead, and you… you--you can't be here-- _stop. You-- can't-- be-- real! _Bianca… stop it. Help. Make it stop…" he was rambling, now, mumbling. He doubted anyone could understand a word he was saying, but he didn't care. He had to get away from these delusions before… before he broke. And what was Bianca doing? She was just kneeling there, where he had been when he had woken up, not moving, smiling that same, unnervingly loving smile… Didn't she see them? Didn't she know they were dead? Why wasn't she… _doing _something? _Why was she just kneeling there freaking smiling_?

"Chris," began Paris, shattering whatever emotional barrier he had just built up with his denial strategy as she walked forward. She came over and knelt down in front of him, looking at him with her serene, caring indigo-blue eyes. "It's okay. We came back to help you--"

"YOU CAN'T COME BACK!" Chris yelled, suddenly enraged for reasons beyond his comprehension. "HE MURDERED YOU ALL WITH DARK MAGIC! YOU CAN'T COME BACK TO EARTH WHEN YOU'RE KILLED WITH DARK MAGIC! You _know _that, Paris!"

"Shh, Chris," Paris whispered, pulling him into a hug.

Chris, surprisingly, didn't pull away. In fact, he hugged her back, gripping her tightly and never wanting to let go. He couldn't touch hallucinations. He could feel her; she was real. She was here. Who cared if she was alive, or if she was just breaking the rules in the afterlife to come help him-- he needed her and she was here and that was all that mattered. She was here. They were all here.

Prue smiled. "Yeah… you would know, wouldn't you?" she asked in a gentle voice.

Chris, perplexed, looked up, letting go of Paris to see his eldest aunt. "What are you--?"

"Dark magic," answered Prue easily. "You practiced so much of it after we died… killed with it…"

Chris' confused expression deepened. What… was she blaming him? Was she mad at him? What was she… on about? Oh, no. Prue hated him. He had screwed up, using dark magic, and now she hated him. Oh, no, Prue hated him. Oh no; oh no; oh no…

The three witches were walking towards him and Paris, and he struggled for words to say, anything to say that would make her forgive him. Prue couldn't go back to the afterlife… or back to where ever she came from, hating him. He couldn't leave it like that.

"Prue, I'm sorry," he managed at last. Everything, grasp of the human language, thought process, was all escaping him. So what came out sounded like something a little kid would think of, but he didn't care. "I tried to be strong… I really, really did, but… everyone was gone, and you were gone, and I just… I missed you _so much,_ Prue…" he said weakly, searching her calm blue eyes for a sign that she still loved him.

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Paris stood, took Chris' hand, and pulled him to his feet. Prue took the last step between them and pulled him into a tight embrace. It was a good enough answer for him. He closed his eyes, letting the woman comfort him and tried to breathe in her familiar scent, but was met with the smell of… some heavy perfume that could only be associated with dead, rotting roses.

As soon as he realized that that was wrong, the woman was using her grip on him to whirl him around roughly and wrench his hands behind his back. He had no idea what to do as she snapped the familiar anti-magic handcuffs on his wrists, locking them tighter than kind. _What the heck_… was all his mind could register. He was sure his face was a picture of horror and bewilderment.

Before he could get any words out to express this, however, Prue's fist connected with his face so hard he was thrown to the ground, supporting a nastily split lip and spitting out the blood that came with it. He twisted onto his back, the handcuffs digging into his wrists harder than ever, to look at his 'aunt'. She was… another woman, now. Black, scamp-y clothes, dyed red streaks in her black hair, a foul expression on her sharp face.

"That's for vanquishing my sister, you son of a bitch," the new woman spat, but Bianca cut her gloating short by jumping angrily to her feet and shouting,

"I told you he was not to be harmed!" His ex-fiancée conjured a… _fireball _and chucked it at the stranger. Last time he checked, Bianca didn't have that power…

"Bianca, what's going on?" asked Chris from the floor, a bit shriller than he'd have preferred. His eyes shot between Paris, Phoebe, Paige, and Bianca. Something like, 'Oh damn, I'm losing my mind again, oh damn, oh damn, I've lost it, oh damn,' was going through his mind. Bianca throwing fireballs, Prue changing into someone else-- had his mind done that or was she a shape shifter?-- Prue, Paige, Phoebe, and Paris all being alive… or _here_, at least. No, none of it was possible. It was his mind. Was he out of his memory? Was this just a continuation? Was Bianca trying to get him to snap out of it right now? Oh damn, he had no idea what was happening, what was real, what was his imagination… oh damn, he was so confused and lost. Oh damn.

Bianca's brown eyes snapped onto his and he felt himself being telekinetically pulled into the air, then dropped upright on his feet. Thankfully, Chris managed to keep the stand and not let his suddenly weak knees make him fall. His unnatural blue-green eyes sought out Bianca's… or _Bianca_. Oh damn, it wasn't her. Oh damn, he knew it. Oh damn, _it was Wyatt impersonating a girl!_ Or… both their fiancée… at one point. That sounded more 'professional'. Wait… _it was Wyatt!_ _SHIT._

"Bianca?" repeated Wyatt innocently as he morphed back into himself. "You couldn't possibly mean my _ex_-fiancée, _that _Bianca, could you?" He jabbed a thumb carelessly behind him. Chris, feeling the color slowly draining from his face, dreading what he would find, leaned slightly to the side to see what he was pointing at.

There was Bianca, struggling but being held onto firmly by… Paige and Prue. But… he whirled around. Paige, Prue, Phoebe, and Paris were still gathered around him, here, smiling smugly. His eyes went wide as his entire world seemed to spin beneath his feet. "Wyatt, what the hell are you doing to me?" he breathed, feeling like he was going to be sick.

Wyatt smirked. "I'm making sure you're too insane to fight me anymore. I bet you can't tell me who's really holding onto this traitor, here, can you? And in that case, who are those people standing with you? And what about her, in the door?"

Chris' eyes went to the door, just because he knew Wyatt wanted him to, and found nobody there. If he thought he felt sick before, he didn't know what he was talking about. Now he felt like he was going to vomit all over the place. "Wyatt, there's no one there. You're lying just to make me believe I'm even more insane than I think," Chris murmured, more to hear it himself than say it to Wyatt.

"Really?" said Leo's… his father's voice from the doorway, sounding dangerous. But there was no one there. Chris was sure. _There was no one there_. "So you mean to tell me, you little brat, that I don't exist? After you killed me, you want to say I'm not even here? How dare you… How _dare _you!"

Chris flinched at the oh-so familiar tone. It was getting closer. Was Leo there or wasn't he? Wait, Wyatt had said 'she'. What the… "Oh, God…" Chris murmured, blinking furiously. He tried to keep his breathing regular, but it wasn't working. "Oh, God…" he tried to rake his hands through his hair in his clear distress habit, but remembered his hands were cuffed behind his back. He was sure his wrists were bleeding by now. He still didn't care. He was losing his mind. Or was he…? The dead voices, still screaming in his ears, abruptly reminded him that yes, he was losing, in fact, his mind. He didn't know whether to say 'Oh God' again, or 'Damn it'.

A flash of Paris screaming as Wyatt dug his fingers into the stab wound and tore upwards… a little girl sobbing for her mama to wake up, for someone to wake her mama up… he went with, "Oh, God," and sank to his knees as the tears started to come back but remained swimming in his lost, traumatized eyes.

"Chris," Wyatt said, calling his little brother's attention back to him. Chris looked up to find Wyatt only inches away from him, gazing into his horrorstruck eyes with innocence. "Bianca has to die for betraying me again, but I'll let you live, okay? Then, after time, once you can tell shape shifters from family members, we'll talk about you joining and actually helping me again. Now, if you'll just stand by these fine people for a moment as I…" he strolled over to Bianca, conjuring an atheme as 'Paige' put her hand on his shoulder.

Chris couldn't breathe. What the hell was going on? At his 'aunt's contact, he suddenly felt emotions begin to boil below his skin. Boil. Was it anger? Was it sadness? Was it despair? Was it hate? He didn't know, but he wanted that woman to stop touching him. He hated physical, and that contact was real, hallucination it was not. He felt this boiling feeling become directed towards 'Paige'. Was it Paige? Had Wyatt summoned her from the dead using dark magic to cancel out that little clause that said séances for dark magic victims wouldn't work? Was a séance a good magic thing, or neutral? Why the hell was he thinking about séances when Wyatt was stabbing Bianca with that very real looking atheme? But was that Bianca? Or was it a shape shifter, like he was beginning to suspect either the one holding his shoulder, or the one holding the alleged Bianca was…? Oh, God, Bianca! It was Bianca, he could feel it. He could feel her life… and it was draining from her body…

"Bianca!" Chris yelled, making a jump to his feet, trying to get to the love of his life, but 'Paige' wrenched him backwards, sending him colliding with the floor. No, no, no, no. He did a flip back to his feet and kicked Paige's feet out from under her. Prue rushed at him and he felt that boiling feeling at her, too. He kicked her in the face, sending her crashing to the floor several feet away. Phoebe and Paris both came at him, tackling him to the ground.

He struggled madly, feeling Bianca's life draining… draining. She was bleeding out. Wyatt wasn't going to end it quickly for her. "Bianca!" he shouted again, desperately trying to fight his way to her. Draining… draining… It was almost gone. Maybe she _would _die quickly… Her breath was shuddering… she still had some left. "_No_! BIANCA! Wyatt, you can't-- _she's all I have left_-- please, Wyatt! HELP HER!"

Tears were flooding down his cheeks, he was struggling madly beneath the attacking bodies of Phoebe and Paris. Oh God, Paris… But… Bianca needed him. Paris was dead. Paris wasn't coming back. Bianca still had a chance. Slipping, he was always slipping… and she was draining until she was almost gone.

He had no idea what, but he must have done something right, for the next thing Chris knew, he was free of Phoebe and Paris and falling forwards without his hands. He hit the attic floor for what felt like the hundredth time, but this time he could see the other figure slumped on the floor. Bianca… lying in a puddle of blood, slumped to the side… dagger protruding from her stomach. He couldn't see where Wyatt was… couldn't feel him through the pain, panic, and desperation shared between him and the dead New Nirvana people…

"_Chris, help us! Please, don't leave us!"_

"_You promised you would be here, Paige! You PROMISED! Now she's dead… they're all dead…"_

"_Why? WHY? YOU HAVE TO HELP US!"_

"_Somebody… please… help him… please save… him…"_

"SHUT UP!" Chris screamed, unable to feel Bianca anymore through their stupid whining. They were in too much pain… he couldn't pick out hers. Couldn't find _hers_. "YOU'RE DEAD, SO JUST SHUT **UP**! I-- WANT-- _BIANCA_!" They wouldn't. They wouldn't shut up. More tears splattered to the floor. Angry tears, desperate tears, hopeless tears.

He didn't know how, but somehow he managed to stumble up beside her and fall back down in front of her. "Bianca, please, baby," he whispered, wrenching against his cuffs. He couldn't… but he _had _to… to touch her… one last time. Her eyes were half-closed. Blood oozed from the wound. Her lips were barely open, trying to breathe, trying to stay alive. Was she even conscious? "Bianca, please, wake up. Come on, Bi, it'll be alright if you just… just _hold on_…"

Slowly, as though in a trance, Bianca's doe-brown eyes turned to him. She took a deep shuddering breath. "Chr-Chris," she breathed hoarsely. Chris nodded encouragingly, trying to smile, trying to pretend she wasn't about to die. He was failing miserably. She took another deep, quavering breath and whispered painfully, "If you can… f-finish what we… st-started… and be-- be strong, Chr-Chris…" Her eyelids fluttered and slowly her prostrate form began to go limp, breath coming out one last time with the barely audible words, "…I love you…"

Chris watched with an incomprehensible… _dread _as her eyes closed completely. For a moment, a moment that felt like a lifetime, he just stared at her… at her… _body_. Then the boiling feeling came back, but only briefly before everything… his thoughts and emotions… just slipped into oblivion.

In a daze, he relinquished all control, and gravity carried him onto his back. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling and he felt nothing. And strangely… feeling this nothing was the scariest thing he'd ever felt in his life.

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A/N: Okay, I lied. The Charmed Ones reunite with him next chapter. Anyway, don't ya'll love how fast I'm updating? Thank Stoneage Woman for it. Honestly, no one's ever threatened to boil me in my own blood before... that was good. Anyway, REVIEW! **

Avallyn Black-- yeah, this one remembers the sixteen/seventeen year old's experiences (with Piper, Leo, Paige, and Phoebe from the past). Well... I'm sure he would if he just stopped to think about it. He's kind of too crazy to at the moment...


	31. Reunion

**Disclaimer: Hey… Aaron Spelling died of a stroke or heart attack or something… does that mean I can claim ownership, now? No? Well TOO BAD! MWHAHAHAHA! Okay, fine, I don't own Charmed. Screw u, 2, buddy.**

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In the not-so-far future where Chris is seventeen and Cole and Henry are plotting to keep him at the safe house against his will… They're **still **having breakfast…_

"I think the stress of the war is finally getting to her," whispered Victor behind his hand, nodding wisely. It was about an hour later.

Chris raised his eyebrows, resisting the urge to grin. "Okay… the next time someone calls me insane, I am going to be able to say with confidence that it could be worse… At least I'm not talking to and crooning over syrup."

Cole gave him a playful glare, grumbling, "That's my wife you're talking about, Christine."

"So sorry to tell you this, Nicole, but no one forced you to marry her," said Chris smartly, grinning. He laughed and ducked as Cole tossed a waffle at his head. Instantly, Chris' to-be mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother told Cole off for throwing food at the table and warned Chris strictly against retaliating. Chris just wrinkled his nose at them in a very Prue-like manner and picked up his fork. Cole was sitting all the way on the other side of the table, next to his wife, and Chris couldn't reach him, so his stabbed Henry with the fork and said, glaring darkly at Cole, "Pass it down."

Henry made an 'ah' face, grinned, then stabbed his son in the shoulder (gently and playfully, people!), saying, "Pass it down," himself.

And so it went from family member to family member (to an amused looking and participating Bianca) until Piper of the past got to stab Cole, grinning. Cole glared at her momentarily before turning the look to Chris. He took up his own fork and stabbed his wife on his other side (who was still looking lovingly at her syrup) and said lightly, "Pass it down, please, sweetheart."

Phoebe looked up, then looked at her mother who sat on her other side. She sighed and picked up her fork. "Sorry, Mom, but I gotta ask you to pass this down," she said sadly and poked her mother with the utensil.

"It's okay, dear," said Patty, who picked up her own fork and stabbed her own mother, who glared at her, then stabbed less than playfully the unfortunate Victor instead of her great-granddaughter, who was only four. Victor scowled at her, then stabbed his deceased son-in-law, Andy, who stabbed Chris, who glared at Cole and was prepared to start it all over again, when they were interrupted by an amused voice.

"I know they say the Halliwells are a weird family, but this is just sad," Joden stated with a grin. He looked over at his seventeen year old commander and said, still amused, "I take it we're staying a little while longer, huh?"

Chris blushed and nodded as the rest of his team showed up. "Yeah, they won't let me leave just yet. You wanna come join us?" he asked hopefully, but Paris was already seated casually and in a conversation with Paige and Patty. It couldn't have been more obvious that she was (pretty much) just as familiar with the family as Chris was, which didn't escape his very clever FU team.

It hit Joden first. "Oh my God, you're a Halliwell!" he gasped loudly, eyes wide in shock and astonishment, causing everyone at the table to look up at him, then raise eyebrows at Chris.

Primrose sneered, "Well, I guess they know you're a Halliwell, now, after all, Kitty."

The FU team, save Paris, all stared at Chris. Joden muttered something like, "I knew it…" But Andre frowned.

"Did she just call you Kitty and live to tell about it?" the woman asked, pulling up a seat next to Victor, with whom she shook hands and shared introductions.

Chris rolled his eyes. "What can I say; they don't like it when I kill family members."

Joden and Duncan moved to sit down, too. Joden was looking at Chris as though comparing him to something in his mind and Chris got a very suspicious feeling wondering what it might be. "So…" Joden said slowly and at length. "You're the famous, previously assumed dead Christopher Perry Halliwell-- missing from birth until the age of five, expelled from three schools up till being institutionalized at age twelve for a handful of months, released and started the band C4 who topped record charts for several weeks with their only CD and mysteriously vanished when he was fourteen. …I've heard of you." He ended, giving Chris a narrow, knowing look.

Chris shifted uncomfortably in his seat, giving his teammate a strange look. "Uh… Joden, you're scaring me."

But suddenly Joden burst into a grin and pulled out a miniature book and tossed it to Chris. _The Warren-Halliwell Bloodline: A Family's Biography_. "Just messing with ya," Joden said with a mischievous grin as Chris curiously flipped through the pages and was met with pictures and summaries about each and every family member sitting at the table. It was only about a year old.

"Lemme see, lemme see!" cried Paige from the past and she happily yanked the book from his hands. She and the past Phoebe poured over it, absorbing all the future information like sponges. Chris just rolled his eyes. He knew someone was going to end up erasing their memories, anyway, so what did it matter?

Breakfast after that became a very casual affair again, family and Resistance team all talking and laughing easily. Every adult chided Chris about needing a haircut; the woman crooned over Paris' cute tank top that matched her eyes; Primrose was laughing after hearing about how Chris and Bianca had met; the littler kids (and Chris' uncle Henry) were building and comparing things they made out of their food; the youngest two from the past were talking about the new things they found in the biography with his aunt Paige and grandmother Patty; Victor and Penny were going at it again; Andy, Prue, and Cole were talking to Joden, Andre, and Duncan about the Resistance and Chris was sure he would hear a few good-natured jibes at his position there.

Chris and his parents from the past, however, were silently listening to their family around them, merely letting the contentment wash over them in blissful-like submission. Piper caught his eye after a moment and offered him a weak smile and Chris uncomfortably smiled back. It was still strange to see a look with that much love directed at him… but he knew it was genuine. He could feel with his empathy, he could hear it in her thoughts…

Almost an hour later, they were all still seated and talking, though their plates had been cleared of every food possibly desirable. The rest of the people staying at the safe house had already finished eating and were gone, leaving the entire cafeteria to the Halliwells and Resistance team. It was only then that Piper and Leo sighed, understanding that they couldn't stay in this time period any longer and just hang out. The two shared a look and resignedly moved to get their Phoebe and Paige's attention. The two young women were talking to their future children.

"Yeah?" asked Phoebe. She and her little sister both turned to see what it was the couple wanted.

Piper sighed again, reluctant to get on with it. At length, though, she conceded. "We have to get going," she said quietly. "We have to write a spell to make sure Chris-- our twenty-two year old Chris-- is okay, and get him back, then we have to leave."

Paige's eyes went round. "That's right," she mused, deflating slightly. "He said he'd find us, didn't he?"

"Yeah, over twenty-four hours ago," confirmed Leo.

_Oh_, Chris thought, unintentionally listening in. (What, was it really his fault he couldn't control his aunt's telepathy?) _When I'm twenty-two I come back from the future to… probably 'save' Wyatt… Oh, damn. I bet he's going to _love _that…_ _As though I'm not having trouble convincing him I haven't betrayed him, already… I bet I-- _he_-- got captured by Wyatt. Yeah, that'd be about the only thing keeping me from somewhere I'd promised I'd be…_ _Huh. He's going to probably want someone to rescue him right about now…_

However, before Chris could contemplate the matter further, his little two year old nephew orbed into his lap, startling him from his reverie.

"Logan!" he exclaimed before he could stop himself and instantly drew attention to himself and his "dead" brother's son. He winced slightly. Even though Logan was far less talkative than most normal two-year-olds, Chris knew without asking that he didn't like to be the center of attention.

Instantly, the family was crowding around, all squealing with delight at seeing their cousin/great-nephew alive and healthy. Chris couldn't make heads or tails of what they were all squealing or demanding, or gushing or _anything_, and judging from Logan's suddenly pouting and frightened expression, Chris could gather he couldn't either.

The seventeen year old rolled his eyes and threw out his hands, sending everyone crashing several feet away from him and his trepid nephew. He silenced their indignant exclamations with a slice of his hand and cut them off.

"Yes, this is Logan; yes, he is alive and healthy; yes, I am his guardian; yes, you _are _scaring him; and yes, you _do _need to back off," he answered as many questions as he could guess they had been asking and then his own.

They all glowered at him before sulkily moving back to their seats. Chris just rolled his eyes. They would get over it in approximately thirty seconds, anyway.

He turned back to his nephew, who was still staring up at him with big, watery silver eyes. He pushed the little boy's dark hair from his face, asking gently, "Hey, what's wrong, little guy?"

Logan blinked a few times before stating in a small voice, "Kwis is sad. Can I help make him better?"

Chris smiled and adjusted the toddler on his lap. "I'm not sad. You just surprised me is all. Now, what have I told you about orbing to me?" he ended in his best 'teacher' voice.

Logan's eyes went round as he brought back his uncle's words. "You said… said _don't do it unless you know whe'e you'we going, 'cause I might dwop you next time_," he quoted, lisping over the 'r's.

The Phoebe from the past laughed, shocked, and Paige asked in equally stunned tones, "You actually told your nephew that?"

Chris glanced up, noticing for the first time that the ones from the past had been listening in. He rolled his eyes. "Well, it's true. He orbs to me when I'm standing up sometimes and I have to catch him before he hits the ground." He paused, looked down at his nephew, then looked to his parents, thoughtful air about him. "…Do you want to hold your first grandson?" he asked at last, a little hesitantly.

Both their eyes instantly lit up, and Leo asked in a slightly wavering voice, "Do I?" implying that Chris didn't even have to ask. Glowing, Piper leaned across the table and gently picked up the little boy, murmuring soft, motherly words to him. Logan didn't seem frightened at all, but glowed radiantly in his grandmother's arms.

"He's older than Wyatt in our time," said Leo playing with the small child's hands, "so that would mean his mother had him when Wyatt was sixteen or seventeen…?"

Chris nodded, trying to remember his parent's reaction to hearing their son was going to be a teenage father. "Yup… I think he was seventeen and Monica was sixteen…"

"Monica?" repeated Piper, and suddenly it clicked. This little boy had his mother's silver eyes, his mother that they had seen out on a date with their son in the first of the time remote's stops. "Yeah… they seemed like they really belonged together…"

Chris' brow wrinkled. Where had they met Monica when Wyatt in their time was less than two years old? He was about to ask them when he noticed Logan looking intently at Piper. He also sent out a telepathic wave towards his mother to see what Logan was seeing (or hearing, rather) and found his mother thinking again about this twenty-two year old him. Then Logan's eyes started to glow and the little boy cocked his head to the side, still gazing at his grandmother intently.

"Logan, don't!" Chris cried, realizing just a moment too late that this was how the little boy behaved before summoning someone who, in general, was not supposed to be there. This was how the little boy had summoned his father, Wyatt, as a fourteen year old when Chris had been reluctant to answer questions about him. This was how Logan had summoned a character out of the television when it went to a commercial and he didn't want it to.

Now, the golden beads of summoning lights appeared in front of the table, behind Chris. The seventeen year old spun around in his seat, along with everyone else seated on that side, to find a figure materializing within the golden spheres.

At first Chris didn't recognize the body that lay as motionless as the dead, eyes open and… empty. Blue-green eyes. Dark brown hair, no white. But after a moment of shocked silence, he mused to the ones from the past, "So that's the Chris you were talking about."

That seemed to break the trance-like state everyone had fallen into. Piper, Leo, Phoebe, and Paige from the past, along with the only Prue, were the first to jump from their seats and rush to the young man's side. Chris followed suit a bit more reluctantly, knowing the hollow look in his future self's eyes couldn't be good. Patty and Penny motioned for the rest of the startled and bewildered family and friends assembled to stay put, but they could hardly stop the flood of incoherent demands to know what was going on, who was this, why was he here, how did he get here, etc.

"Chris, Chris, sweetie," said Piper, outwardly calm but inwardly panicking. She gently brushed his dark, sweat-soaked hair from his face and searched his deadened eyes while Leo scanned over his body for physical injuries. "Chris, honey, it's Piper. From 2004. Sweetheart, please, say something. Are you… in there?"

They seemed to each be holding their breath, waiting for a response of any sort. And, after what felt like an eternity, the future boy's glamoured blue-green eyes slowly turned to his young mother. No hint of emotion played in them, nothing but emptiness. No recognition, confusion, pain, sorrow, not even the standard blankness. Just… nothingness.

Then, every empath in the room screamed.

Before the young Chris could realize what was going on through the blinding cannonade of raw agony, he and everyone else gathered around his future self were hurtled into the air by a storm of concentrated telekinesis. They collided harshly with random, thankfully adult, family members and crashed to the ground with them.

"Sorry," Chris mumbled to Victor groggily, rubbing his temples as his grandpa helped him to his feet. The man brushed off the apology easily and asked if he was alright. But before he could respond, Chris could suddenly feel an ungodly hatred flooding from his adult counterpart, clashing and churning with the initial anguish. Just feeling it empathically forced the young one to his knees, gasping.

Beside the horrified and concerned old man and shocked grandson, Primrose (empath) was close to hyperventilating, along with her little sister and brother (also empaths). Both Phoebes were gripping the table they were now leaning against so tightly their knuckles were pure white; their breathing was forced. His future self's emotions were writing a new book on the concept of intensity.

Just as they were all getting a grip on what was happening again, Chris noticed his older self also getting to his feet, glamoured eyes taking in the room and inhabitants with that same hatred and fury the empaths felt. What…? Why would he hate the people in this room? This was his family, too, and the younger teen couldn't see himself hating any of them any time soon. Well… maybe Primrose, but she was just special like that.

The 'twenty-two' year old was almost literally shaking with rage, and before anyone could ask what the heck was going on, or what his problem was, the young man spat, "How _dare _you! You think making me see them while you _killed _her wasn't enough? HOW _DARE _YOU!"

He swiped his hand violently and the long table they all sat at flew up at them, sending more than a few people crashing backwards with a table on top of them. Prue instantly waved her own hand and it rose off them, and with another movement, the telekinetic woman sent it gently to the other side of the cafeteria.

"Oh, if you want to play, fine by me!" the 'twenty-two' year old yelled, furious and haunted at the same time. He swept out a hand and before anyone could react, Prue was sent hurling straight through the ceiling where she collided with something very hard and very solid, and fell back to the ground with a horrible thud. There were several shocked and horrified screams. Piper, both Phoebes, and the future Paige rushed to the fallen woman's side to find her unconscious while the past Paige screamed,

"Chris, what _the hell _do you think you're doing?"

"Aw, is Auntie Paige disappointed in me?" queried the future Chris in tones of mock concern and hurt. His voice hardened drastically as he hissed, "You always were harder to please than Phoebe," and swiped out with his hand again. This time, however, Paige found herself able to act over her shock and orbed out before she could hit the ceiling.

This seemed to infuriate the future one even more, however, and he shouted, "_What the hell,_ Wyatt! You killed an innocent whitelighter just to give your freaking shape shifter it's power? You sick bastard! _All of you _are! You should be the ones to die! NOT-- THEM!" And with that, a wave of pure fire and its heat soared at the stunned and bewildered family.

Without thinking, the young Chris threw out both hands and absorbed the pythonic flaming mass into himself. He was left breathless from the intensity of it, and exhaled smoke for a shallow breath or two, but he was otherwise unaffected.

"What do you mean, shape shifters?" the boy demanded sharply, despite his lack of sufficient oxygen.

The senior of the two, however, seemed not even to notice him. He was already furious again, and this time at the 'shape shifters' impersonating his little cousins. He flung out an arm and sent Porter, Palomah, Petra, and Parker flying with vicious force, groaning (or growling), "The _little ones_, too? God…"

"NOOO!" screamed the mothers and fathers, jumping back to their feet from being knocked on their butts by the table incident. Paige of the future threw out her hand and yelled, "KIDS! GREAT HALL!" And the screaming mass of youths vanished in blue orblights before they could hit the upturned table legs.

The alleged twenty-two year old threw out his hand again and this time Paige was too slow to avoid colliding with the concrete wall. She was knocked unconscious with a sickening crack.

"PAIGE!" Everyone else exclaimed, making a rush towards their fallen relative.

"Aw, this is so sweet," said the future Chris in tones of mock touched-ness (A/N: good grief, aren't you amazed at my extensive vocabulary?). "Even pretending to be concerned is an accomplishment for you damn shape shifters," he spat, voice changing drastically again. "You are going to pay for this, _do you understand me?_ No demon will EVER live to tell about impersonating-- _my-- FAMILY_!"

He swiped his hand and sent a stone column (ripping it off its foundations) at them. Gasping in surprise, Piper flung out her hands and froze the mass only inches from the nearest's face. She released her breath in a rush, eyes still wide in shock. Then she rounded on her presently eldest son. _"Christopher Perry Halliwell!" _she vociferated, making the younger Chris wince with painful memories. She sounded _exactly _like his mother… "_What the hell do you think you're doing_?"

The older Chris' eyes turned completely stony above the vast emptiness. Without an outward movement, he telekinetically pulled Piper into the air, cutting off her air supply as he did so. Piper choked, grasping uselessly at her throat as the young man hissed dangerously, "So, you think you can command me just because you're impersonating my _mother_? Is that it?" Without waiting for an answer, he spat in honey-coated venom, "Well, _sweetheart_, I'm sorry to say, but you are _sadly _mistaken!"

He threw her violently through another thick stone column and the woman landed among rubble, unconscious and pouring blood from her nose and mouth. There were more cried of protest and horror, but the psychotic Chris silence them all by throwing the rest of the conscious population into walls.

The seventeen year old could do nothing to stop it and slammed into the very solid architectural structure with everyone else. The number of people crumpled to the floor. For a moment, darkness swam in his vision and his entire body ached with the impact. He groaned, forcing the blackness out of his mind and strained to sit back up. His muscles protested but he ignored them.

As he painstakingly got into a sitting position, he noticed his older self also on the ground, unharmed but rocking back and forth, eyes wide open in some unknown emotion, even to the empath. Upon closer inspection, the seventeen year old could make out the words he was mumbling.

"No… no… no…no… no… _Be quiet_… no… no… just _leave-- me-- alone_…! Please, _no_… go away… JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" he finished, practically screaming, voice cracking pitifully, tears were streaming down his cheeks. "YOU'RE DEAD SO ACT LIKE IT AND SHUT THE HELL UP! ---_DAMN IT _!" He ended, kneading his temples harshly with the heel of his hands. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, _damn it _!"

The seventeen year old frowned, head still a bit foggy from smashing into the remarkably well built wall. "… Who are you talking to?" he asked hoarsely, blinking back more darkness.

But his senior didn't hear him over whatever he was hearing in his head. "I'm sorry," the older one sobbed quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest and folding his arms around them. He buried his face in his arms, continuing to cry quietly. "I'm sorry you're dead… but leave me… _alone_… I can't bring back the dead… Nothing can… _Just go away_…"

The seventeen year old looked around at the unmoving bodies of his relatives. Cole was nearest. While his older self was distracted, Chris leaned over and checked his uncle's pulse. He was alive, as were both the Phoebes around him. But, by the looks of things, they all had sustained serious head injuries that needed extremely quick healing.

Checking to make sure his psychotic self was still preoccupied, the boy crept over to his aunt Paige, who he knew had the power to heal. He wasn't sure about her past self. The woman was out cold, a bloody gash on the back of her head, and didn't look like she'd be waking up any time soon. Chris held his hands over her and tried to force the warm golden glow to them, but after a few moments of nothing, he could tell it wasn't going to work. He sighed quietly and glanced over at his unmoving to-be father. If there was any time to get over his issues with the man, he believed _now _would be that time-- before he started blaming himself for killing the last remains of his family and causing himself to cease to exist (by killing his mother from the past, too, who still lay bleeding from her crash through the column).

Wait… was that even possible? If he killed his mother before he was born, he wouldn't be born to kill her and she would live, have him, and he would grow up to kill her (again). What the heck…?

Shaking aside the notions of time travel, Chris cleared his head and moved reluctantly to wake his father.

After only a few more moments of hesitation, the son forced himself to touch his father's shoulder and give it a hesitant shake. "Leo!" he called quietly, as to not draw his future self's wrath on them once more. Nothing. "Leeeeeeeeeo, wake up!" Still nothing. "Leo!" he tried, a little bit louder. Still nada. Chris rolled his eyes in frustration and all but yelled, "Your wife needs you, now wake up, man!"

Of course, bringing his beloved wife into the picture always made him listen up. He woke with a start and looked around wildly before his eyes found his seventeen year old son, who was hiding his trepidation rather well, Chris thought.

"Chris, are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," snapped the boy, moving out of the way. "You need to get healing, now, or some of my cousins will be orphaned-- if any of us even get born, now, that is."

Leo's eyes instantly moved to Piper and he rushed to her side and healed her. She sat up groggily, rubbing her head. Before he could get to anyone else, however, his eyes flew to his future son who was jumping up from the floor and yelling,

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD AND JUST DIE _QUIETLY_! I-- CAN'T-- _HELP_-- YOU!" And, without warning, he began hitting his head violently against the concrete wall behind him, jerkily commanding of the voices, "Out-- out-- out-- out-- out-- out--"

"Oh my God, Chris, stop that!" exclaimed Leo, horrified, and rushed forward to grab his future son by the shoulders. _Big _mistake.

**

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A/N: Hey peoples, sorry for the delay. I was on a roll, I know, but I got _seriously _grounded and lost all 'computer privileges.' Anyway, think I made Chris insane enough? It's hard writing him like that… but extremely fun. ((BAD WARRIORA! THAT'S EVIL!))**Hey peoples, sorry for the delay. I was on a roll, I know, but I got grounded and lost all 'computer privileges.' Anyway, think I made Chris insane enough? It's hard writing him like that… but extremely fun. ((BAD WARRIORA! THAT'S EVIL!)) 

**TWO MORE CHAPTERS**-- I think… I want to say this isn't ending until you pry my cold dead fingers off the keyboard, but… I pretty sure some people would take that as permission to kill me and actually try to, so I'll just avoid verbalizing that phrase…

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Stoneage Woman: Dern it, that was a good threat, and if I hadn't blown up my sink I would have updated the next day (probably). Oh well. Think you could aim the next one at my muse? She needs a good wake-up call…**

**SC: **Thankyou! I hadn't even realized I passed up the opportunity to explain that, like, a dozen chapters ago, but I'll try to get it in here anyway. Thanks for reminding me!


	32. Big Mistake

**Disclaimer: Don't own Charmed, or any other TV show for that matter. Shame. Think of the things I could do if I did...**

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"Oh my God, Chris, stop that!" exclaimed Leo, horrified, and rushed forward to grab his future son by the shoulders. _Big _mistake.

Chris whirled around, a dark bruise already forming on his forehead, and set wide, startled eyes on Leo. Then the blue-green spheres narrowed. "You!" he spat venomously and, out of nowhere, pulled out a knife.

Leo made another exclamation of surprise and horror, jumping out of the way as Chris dove at him with the weapon. "Chris!" he gasped, folding to the ground below the next slash. He rolled to the side as the boy hurtled the blade at his head. The knife struck the floor blade down, and Chris ripped it out of the tile. "Chris, listen to me!" Leo tried again, this strange 'try not to be stabbed' and 'try to stab' game continuing. "You're in the fu… past. You're in your past and we're not shapesh--"

"SHUT UP!" the 'twenty-two' year old bellowed, successfully nicking Leo in the arm as the latter stumbled out of the thrown blade's direct path. "I DON'T CARE! _I WANT YOU DEAD!"_ He held out his hand and the knife flew back into it, ready to resume the game.

"Chris, I'm sorry!" Leo called after orbing to the far side of the room where the rest of the family was still unconscious. Piper and the young Chris were trying in vain to wake Prue and were both casting an eye to Leo every few seconds to make sure he was still doing okay. They both realized that since he was already dead, there wasn't much Chris' future self could do to him. Leo didn't quite see it that way. "I know I was a bad father-- probably the worst on the face of the earth, but I'm not really _your_r-"

"I told you," the older Chris ground out, advancing on his father dangerously, "to _shut_-- UP!" And the knife he was clutching burst into flames. Unaffected by the fire himself, the young man raised it and made a slashing motion, sending a rope of fire at his father.

"_Yes!" _the younger Chris blurt out happily. At his mother's shocked expression, he shrunk slightly and felt it necessary to explain. "I mean-- not 'yes' that I just re-vanquished Leo, but 'yes', I know I'll finally be able to conjure the fire… in the future…"

Satisfied that she and her son were on the same team again, Piper felt it necessary to explain what the older Chris had told them. "Well… he said only when he gets really pissed off. And even then it isn't a sure guarantee."

The young one crossed his arms and glowered at her. "You're just as good at crushing my hopes and dreams as my mother was," he grumbled and went back to yelling in Prue's ear before Piper could respond. The mother of presently one but futurely two just sighed, not wanting to open that can of worms again. This future would never happen, anyway, so why get so emotional, now?

Leo reformed just a moment later (behind a table) after getting vanquished by his psychotic future son. This was not good. This was so not good, it was hopelessly bad. But the man had to try. He had to get through to the witch-whitelighter-fire deemer if it was the last thing he did. Which it might be, if the boy picked up anymore magic tricks… "Chris, please, son, let's just talk!" he called, leaning forward slightly to see the one in question. He had to duck back only a second later as another lasso of flames careened towards his face.

"Just a tip," said the young Chris, who was now dipping Prue's hand in a conveniently placed bowl of warm water with an evil little smirk, "don't call him 'son'."

"_Would you like to try talking him down?"_ hissed Leo as a spell-conjured bolt of lightening struck the table the man was hiding behind. He groaned and found a new hiding spot.

The seventeen year old looked to his insane future counterpart, then to Leo, then to his future self again, then back to Leo. "No," he said lightly. "I'll leave that to you two. Family bonding and the likes, ya know." The same wicked little smirk. Leo suddenly didn't find it that hard to believe these Chris-es were really the same person-- something he'd been having a bit of trouble digesting since they'd met. These Chris-es were all so different… Yet they all had that same little likeness: they hated Leo.

"Er… Leo?" said Piper suddenly, looking to her husband. When she caught his gaze, she finished uncomfortably, "Um… look behind you."

Leo frowned and turned around.

"Boo!" whispered the older Chris, not two inches from his face. Leo jumped back instantly, startled, and couldn't stop the fright that burst into his eyes. The young man noticed and laughed a laugh that lay on the line between insane and, well, crazy. "_You're _afraid of _me_, now, _Daddy? _Well… that's a new one…" he grinned, but his glamoured blue-green eyes were as empty as ever. Then, before Leo had a chance to do anything, Chris produced the initial knife and slashed his father's shoulder. The young man threw out his hand and his young counterpart's bowl of water came flying into it. He dripped his father's blood from the knife into it, swirled, and began chanted in a strange, harsh language.

"_Tortus cordi ana capitus,_

_Pugnare nay dent ana digitus,_

_Fortis es bellum niw contrus!"_

The spell hit Leo in the form of a blinding green light, and then the whitelighter was writhing on the floor, shrieking in complete, raw agony, face screwed up tightly, tears streaming down his face. Piper had jumped to her feet, horrified at what she saw happening, and rushed to her husband's side as he twisted and flailed violently, pain never seeming to relent. The young counterpart was having trouble figuring out where he stood, but the hesitation only lasted a split second. He only tortured demons, warlocks, and other black hearted entities. His father didn't have a black heart, and this was definitely torture. And, judging from the fact that it used blood and a Latin-based spell, it was probably dark magic, besides. He wasn't okay with dark magic. Dark magic not only killed and tortured… it devastated. A person could lose their soul for performing dark magic, if they still even had it. A person could cost their victim their soul… their peaceful afterlife… and more.

"Hey, old and totally uncool me," he called, getting to his feet likewise but not hastening to Leo's side. His future self's eyes shot up to him and the young one suppressed a shudder. The eyes were utterly devoid of life… of emotion… But he had to shake that notion aside. "Reverse the spell and I won't start name calling," he bargained in his self-confident way people always said would get him killed.

His future version gave him an incredulous once-over and scoffed, "Yeah, like I wouldn't know which was the real me. Very funny, Wy., but now you're inaccurate shape shifter is going to die-- or _not _die-- the same way Leo here is about to."

"You don't believe me?" questioned the young one airily as his father continued to scream and his mother began rhyming desperately, trying to find a counter curse. The seventeen year old pushed his white bangs out of his face and took the glamour off, showing the burn scar across his cheek. "Only a few people know about this, and Wyatt is definitely not one of them. Wha'd'ya say to that?" he challenged lightly.

His future self sneered. "Ah, yes. The mark of being cast down from Grace. How do you think the Elders proved I wasn't _trustworthy _to the entire Resistance unless they showed that to everyone there? Now, honestly, about your… _demise_…" He threw the knife at the young one, but the latter caught it easily between his thumb and index fingers, face shocked.

"… The Resistance doesn't trust me in the future?" he asked, feeling the statement hit him like a physical blow. The Resistance… the place he freakin' _lived_, the people he lived _with_… How could they stop trusting him just because of the stupid _remaining _Elders? …Stupid remaining Elders… So not cool… Maybe he should just vanquish them now and get it over with… Nobody liked them anymore, anyway. Bunch of cowards… hiding behind the Resistance people, telling them what to do… He should definitely vanquish them.

He added that to his mental to-do list and turned his eyes, which had wandered to the ceiling in his contemplation, back to where his future self was… sinking to the ground. The older one was slowly folding to the ground until he was doubled over his knees, face only centimeters from the floor. His expression was dazed and pained as he croaked, "No, no, no, no, no, no… get out… no, no, LEAVE ME ALONE! GO SCREAM IN PAIGE'S HEAD! SHE DIDN'T SAVE YOUR SORRY, WHINING ASSES EITHER! JUST-- GET**-- OUT**!"

He started banging his head furiously against the floor and the young Chris felt his heart sink. Damn it. He was going to grow up to be a complete and unadulterated _nutcase_. He sighed, got over it, and telekinetically threw his older self into the air before he could inflict more self-harm. Wait… he was him, and he was harming… _himself _by throwing him into the air and letting him fall back to the ground. Grr, time travel hurt his head. So he stopped thinking about that, too, and walked over to his future self, who was picking up a knife that had flown from the table when it had been thrown. Before the young man could drive the blade into his own skull in a retarded attempt to get out the voices, the young one flicked a wrist and sent it soaring from his grip.

Those empty, currently pissed eyes flew up to met his. "Why did you do that?" he hissed, and staggered to his feet, enraged. "WHY? I will never join your psychotic, megalomaniac master, so _why should you care if I kill myself?_ _**ANSWER ME!**"_

"Wyatt psychotic, coming from you?" sneered the young one, inwardly terrified. He was really crazy. Really, really, really crazy. He didn't want to grow into him… He was terrified of what that was going to be like. Forget terrified, he was petrified. Oh God, he was going to lose his mind for real… Oh God, oh God, oh God… Wait. Stay cool. Continue speaking until Mommy Dearest finds a counter curse for Daddy Dearest. Then Daddy Dearest can go heal some people before Cousins Dearest ceased to exist. And... Go! "That's rich." Eh, simple but provocative.

"You… y-y-you…" his older self stammered, so pissed and insane he couldn't even speak. He motioned clearly with his hands that he wanted to strangle the annoying, infuriating young him, but didn't seem to be able to move towards him. So he just threw out a hand and brought the knife back to him so quickly it slashed the young one's side as it flew to the senior without the younger able to stop it. Psycho Chris brought the bowl of water to him yet again and dripped the blood in. He began chanting and threw up his shield when the young one tried to stop him magically.

"_Torus cordi ana capitus,_

_Pugnare nay d--" _He broke off with a sharp gasp and fell to the ground, unconscious. The young one smiled weakly when he saw Cole leaning up on his elbows behind the fallen Chris, having just knocked him out with an energy ball.

Cole looked shocked, and not just a little frightened. "Tell me," he began in the sternest voice Chris had ever heard him use, "you have no idea what he was doing."

The seventeen year old blinked, taken aback by his uncle's demeanor. The man was afraid in a concerned and worried way, and he was also horrified.

"Well," the teen began, still perplexed, "I assume it was dark magic judging from the method of execution and your _extremely _negative reaction… But I haven't learned that-- yet-- if that's what you want to know…"

Chris felt his uncle's relief, but the man didn't have time to show it, for at that moment, he caught sight of the distraught Piper and still screaming, writhing Leo. The ex-demon's face blanched and he shoved himself to his feet. He stumble-sprinted to the fallen whitelighter's side and found the wound in the blonde's shoulder where the blood had been drawn to use the spell. Without a word to his baffled sister-in-law or nephew, the former Source of all Evil held his hand over the wound, closed his eyes, and began chanting in the same language the future one had used to curse the angel. Moments seemed to drag by in hours with Leo still twisting, sobbing, and screaming and Cole chanting a song-like rhyme.

Then the latter stopped and Leo exploded in thousands of bright orblights. Piper screamed, and demanded in horrified tones, "What'd you do?"

"I let him die," said Cole in that simple, nonchalant way of his. "It's the only way to break the dark magic… and the magic also prevented that from happening."

Piper gaped at him, and spluttered, "Wh-wha- _what does that _-- Leo!" she exclaimed as he husband reformed beside her, breathless and drenched in sweat. She pulled him into a desperate, relieved embrace, and the husband didn't resist, but melted into it, tears spilling down his cheeks just at the memory of the pain.

The seventeen year old watched mutely. That definitely looked like dark magic. And he had done it. Or… _would _do it… Whatever. It was bad, and some Chris was responsible for it. The details didn't matter at the moment. Still in some kind of shock, his eyes suddenly found themselves locked with Cole's, who were looking at him lost in thought. Chris inwardly shriveled under the look. No… Cole was losing faith in him… Darn it, Nicole was his favorite uncle, too. Not cool. Hurtful. He hated his older self, now. He would have to work out a way to kill him...

At length, their gazes broke and Cole shook his head as though to clear it while Chris stared at the floor, mind plotting his own death. Cole must have managed to clear his head, for the next minute, he was the voice of reason. "Leo, you need to heal people, now. Prue and Paige are probably the worst off and most needed, since they can heal, too."

Leo hesitated a moment, then took a shuddering breath and pried himself out of his wife's embrace. He brushed the tear tracks away with his sleeve and went to heal Prue first.

------------------

It was about ten minutes later. Everyone had been healed and Henry had gone to check on the children while the sisters sent the deceased back to the afterlife. Now, the remaining (Piper, Leo, both Paiges and Phoebes, Prue, Cole, Henry, Victor, Paris, Joden, Duncan, Andre, Bianca, and the seventeen year old Chris) sat at an upright table, debating on what to do about the older Chris, who was still unconscious and encaged in power crystals.

"I am _not _casting a spell to change my son's mentality!" Piper repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. "Those spells always backfire and _you_--" she looked pointedly at her sisters, "know it."

"So what do you suggest?" asked Prue wearily. "Reason with him? Even _this _Chris doesn't respond to reasoning."

Chris gaped at her. "Prue!" he whined in injured tones. "Would you all please stop talking about me like I'm not here, too? It really doesn't help whatever inferiority complex I might be developing."

They all shot him looks that pretty much told him to can it, they were in charge. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair sulkily. Too bad he could no longer pout his way into getting things, as he used to be able to do. Now they all just did what they wanted if they thought it would 'protect' him and brushed he, himself, aside. Hypocritical to the highest degree. Again, so not cool.

"I think you-- we-- may not have a choice, Piper," said Cole, speaking for the first time. He stared at his laced fingers on the tabletop as he spoke quietly. "He was willing to use blood magic-- dark magic, and without so much as hesitating. The particular spell he was using was one even Sources shy away from. If I hadn't known a counter spell to _kill _Leo, he would have felt that pain… that agony, for all eternity, never dying, the pain never relenting. And if Leo hadn't been a whitelighter and come back, when he died he would have been banished to a place worse than Hell… And the consequences of him using it on someone with a good soul… aren't much better. That's serious dark magic, Piper. And when he wakes up, if he tries it again, not even those crystals will be able to stop him."

There was silence following this statement and Chris felt his insides turn cold. As of now, he couldn't imagine what would drive him to use that magic. There were vanquishing potions, but they were _blessed _with blood by the vanquisher-witch. To curse something with blood… like he had done/would do… Well, now he knew he wasn't going to have a happy ending for doing that. And there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. This was so complicated and uncool, it wasn't funny. Well, time to get over it again and get to work.

"So… a potion would work better than a spell," the seventeen year old voiced quietly, interrupting everyone's thoughts, getting them back to business. "Less chance of a backfire…"

"What do we need the potion to do, exactly?" asked future and past Paige at the same time. Everyone stared at them, and they stared at each other.

Chris shook it off after a second and considered. "Well… maybe a coping potion. I'm… _he's _apparently still trying to deal with you guys' deaths, and seeing you all alive again and claiming to be them… can't be helping his mentality. And who knows who else Wyatt killed and landed on his conscience."

"I'll work on that," Piper and Prue volunteered simultaneously. They smiled wryly at each other and stood, going to get the potion materials.

"And maybe a potion to weaken his powers temporarily," Chris continued thoughtfully. "Binding them is probably even more un-accomplishable than mine, so weakening them will have to do…"

"Ooo, the only one in the room who can't have their powers bond," said Paige of the future sardonically. "Don't you feel special?"

Chris shot her a look and returned curtly, "Can't be bond by just the Power of Three. There are other ways that you don't know and I won't try."

"Already dipping into random Grimoirs, are we?" teased Joden wryly.

"Nope, experience," replied Chris dryly. He turned to Paige. "You wanna do the potion, seeing as we all know you'd love to be the one to take my powers down a notch?"

Paige gave him a genuinely hurt look. "I would not!" she said weakly and continued. "Whatever impression you have about me being against you in any way (besides your stubbornness and constant sarcasm, of course) you need to get over. I'm your aunt, for Christ's sake!"

Chris snorted humorlessly, getting up to do the potion himself. "Yeah, and Wyatt's my brother, and Piper's my mother, and Leo's my father, and Damien's my other brother…"

"Okay, so about a fourth of this family is against you-- I'm not!"

"And Primrose is my cousin, and…" Chris continued, walking out the door, voice trailing off. He smiled slightly, feeling his youngest aunt's frustration and indignation from the other room as he strolled down the hall after Piper and Prue. The latter two were going to the future Paige and Phoebe's potion room, which was about the only place in the rest of Wisconsin that had such ingredients as were required to make a potion. He'd just been there earlier to make that calming potion...

He caught up with his oldest aunt and youngest mother ever, silently. He was so tired, and being in these two's company somehow made him remember it more. And to think, it was only eight in the morning. He had at least fifteen more hours until him going to bed wouldn't be questionable and suspicious behavior. Grr…

He unconsciously leaned into Prue as they walked, resting the smallest amount of weight against her. Both his mother and Prue noticed, and Prue asked sympathetically, "Tired?"

"Nope, pretending to be your Siamese twin," Chris responded easily, sarcastically, still making himself comfortable against his aunt who might as well have been his mother.

"Before we leave that potion room," Piper said in a way only a concerned and displeased mother could, "I am going to teach you to make a potion so you can actually sleep at night. And I am going to make Prue tell me whether you're taking care of yourself once I get back to my time. _One way or another_," she added when it looked like he was about to make some classy, yet sarcastic comment about a flaw in her design.

Chris gave her a look and said simply, "How 'bout you just not die this time around and make sure of that yourself? --Assuming you do stop the Elders from making my life a living Hell, of course, 'cause I don't think I want an evil you still around me when I'm seventeen."

"Of course," agreed Piper, and Chris felt how she was amazed at the way he could speak so lightly about his God-awful past. She apparently couldn't see how he was really shaking ever-so slightly the entire time he spoke. Prue could see, and could feel, though.

They came to the potion room and prepared their intended potions within fifteen minutes, without any book or recipe to guide them. Wyatt had the Book of Shadows and Chris doubted there was even a coping potion or power weakening potion in it, anyway. Then, true to her word, Piper began a separate potion, writing down things as she went.

"Paige made this to calm my nerves when I was pregnant with Wyatt," she said, adding a pinch of regular garlic salt to the concoction and beginning to crush tortoise shell in a mortar. "If you just add essence of sand and light elixir, it'll work on sleep and dreams. Stand back," she added as she prepared to throw in the tortoise shell. They did so and she tossed it in. There was a surprising explosion of purple smoke that smelled like shoe polish.

Chris eyed it with a faint smile. "Essence of sand as in 'Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream'?" he asked, amused. When Piper nodded, grinning, he laughed. "That's clever..."

Piper kept grinning and moved to fetch the essence of sand.

-----------------

A few minutes later, the three were walking back into the cafeteria (where the others were, remember) to find the place even worse than they'd left it. There were scorch marks littering the walls and tables like the place had been close to burning down; the tables that hadn't been halfway incinerated were broken and smashed into dozens of pieces each, and the only thing that remained in tact were the people and crystal cage.

The psychotic one was awake, and glaring at the people that were grouped across from him as though quietly plotting their gruesome and agonizing deaths. That look unnerved Piper, Prue, and the young Chris the moment they saw it. And the moment they saw him, he saw them. A cruel smirk crossed his lips and didn't reach his empty eyes. "Ah, look," he said to the ones across from him as the three moved to join their sane relatives. "You're saved-- by two dead chicks and an unstable teenager."

"So you admit we're real, now," said Leo as though this was a major improvement on his argument, whatever that was. "Or… at least that they're them and we exist, too."

The crazy young man turned dead eyes to Leo and said in tones of mock astonishment"No, shit, Sherlock! I kind of figured out you weren't hallucinations when you knocked the hell out of me-- _Aunt Nicole imposter!"_

The future Phoebe rolled her eyes. "Guys, come on! When will any of you get a new argument? You've been saying the exact same things since they left!"

"Seriously," said future Paige, rubbing her temples. "We're not imposters, already! Why can't you accept the theory of time travel? God knows we do it enough!"

"Still on the 'you're all shape shifters' kick?" asked the young Chris quietly, coming up beside Cole and surveying the damage in the cafeteria. "_Damn_, I-- he-- did this much damage from inside the cage?"

"You sound happy," remarked Cole bitterly, glaring at the boy, who shrugged with a grin. Cole rolled his eyes, shaking that detail off. "Yeah, so what about forcing that potion down your future self's throat? He's already aimed a variety of dark spells at us, and I personally don't want to go ducking behind anymore table debris to hide from them."

The teen arched an eyebrow. "Force it down my throat?" he repeated in mild disbelief, and pulled out a syringe. "My dear Nicole, I'd like to welcome you to the twenty-first century."

He stuck the needle in the top of the coping potion and turned the bottle upside down, pulling it into the syringe with the drag-stopper (thing). When it was filled, the boy looked at it, then at his future self, thinking. When his family asked what the problem was, he said listlessly, still considering, "The moment this gets close, he's going to use telekinesis." When they all looked like that was the unfortunate end of the road, and like they had to start thinking of a new plan to get the insane one sane, an idea struck him. He turned to Piper. "Freeze him. You're future self could freeze witches, and since she's dead in this time period, you should have access to her powers."

"I-- er-- okay," said Piper, taken aback by the suddenness of his _epiphany._. She turned to her future son, present whitelighter, and held up her hands uncertainly. Before he could speak the comment that was apparently on his mind, she flicked her fingers and he froze in place. She blinked. "…Cool."

The seventeen year old smirked and moved forward. He kicked a power crystal out of formation, breaking the cage, and pushed his older self's sleeve up. No new bruises, he found, but a few unfamiliar scars. Suddenly feeling slightly awkward, he hesitantly injected the young man with the coping potion and pushed the sleeve back down. Just to be safe, he used his foot to move the crystal back in place and moved back, motioning at Piper to unfreeze him. She did and the twenty-two year old shut his mouth, deciding not to say whatever he was going to say once he saw his young self closer to him without apparently moving at all. He must have figured out he'd been frozen and scowled darkly.

The seventeen year old frowned, thinking his potion hadn't worked, when he noticed his future self's narrowed eyes gradually begin to get wider, a light slowly igniting within them. At the same speed and time, his scowling lips slid from a scowl, to a neutral position, to an open-mouthed expression of horror, as did his eyes. For a second, he could merely gape, lost in his own world, shocked beyond words. Then, still not quite taking in everyone in the room, he blinked rapidly, tried to speak, failed, tried again, and failed again. He blinked some more, still apparently in shock, then closed his eyes completely, covering his face in his hands.

Piper, sensing he was no longer homicidal, kicked a crystal away and moved a chair over to him. He immediately sank into it, still covering his face in his hands, shocked more than words could express. The rest of the family shared looks and agreed nonverbally that they could wait patiently for him to speak first.

They didn't have to wait much longer.

"...Oh. My. God."

**

* * *

A/N: Ha, another quick update! Thank Stoneage Woman for her, indeed, TERRIFYING death threat(s). One more chapter, now, I think.**

((Ha, 'oh my god' are the first words and the last words in this chapter. ...Uh... moving on...))

**Remember to review! This is your last chance to get in any questions if u want them answered in the story! And please tell me what story you want me to write when this is finished. There is so much in this little AU world I made, I have no idea what you want to read next, and I can't decide what I want to write. I'll probably get to everything you ask me to write… eventually… too.**


	33. Exeunt

**Disclaimer: what the damn word implies.**

"Oh. My. God."

Chris' hands gradually slid from his face and he seemed to stare straight through them with wide, unseeing blue-green eyes. _"Shit!_ Oh, my God-- tell me I didn't just-- and then you-- and what about the-- holy…" and then he proceeded to let out a stream of swear words, curses, and other vulgar phrases the author would get sued for typing in this 'T' rated story.

Paris blushed madly at the pouring of foulness and a few family members and friends chuckled nervously. At last, Paige from the past was the one to bring his flooding of badness to a stop with the words, _"Jesus Christ, Chris! _Please stop before you give us a heart attack! …And is that even English, anymore?"

"_Constitunia alma FREATIS AMADDA immase_-- a-w-wha--what?" he stuttered to a halt, looking at them all as if seeing them for the very first time. Then he blushed, having the good grace to look abashed at using such filthy language… in _multiple _languages, nonetheless.

The assembled just stared at him, none quite knowing what to say. At length, the older Chris sighed and buried his face in his hands again, appearing tired and unenthused. "Alright," he sighed at length. "Just tell me and get it over with-- did I kill anyone, this time?"

"This time?" questioned Leo, looking like he didn't know what to make of that statement, at the same instance Piper answered in a dangerous mother's voice,

"No one's dead, _thank God_, but we are going to have a _serious _talk with you when you're born about what kind of magic you use."

The young man opened his mouth to shoot a response back when it clicked. Serious talk. With you. When you're born. _Wow_. That sure as heck wasn't the Piper he knew (young version or mother version) so that could only mean that she _was _the younger version and she knew. Well, knew who he was, anyway. He was pretty sure she already knew she was the young version. Anyway… It took a moment for the reality of what he'd just figured out to hit him.

His eyes went wide and he flung an accusatory glare at his young version, who looked rather affronted at being the recipient of such a look. "You told them, didn't you?" the older one all but spat, crossing his arms and glaring as though plotting a way to kill his young version without harming himself in the process.

The seventeen year old's jaw dropped, his indignity truly showing, now. "_Me? _Why would you assume it was _my _fault? You know, maybe they were the ones that _already _knew and surprised _me _! Good grief! Automatically pointing fingers at --_yourself_, nonetheless! You are just like everyone else, thinking without any proof whatsoever that it's my fault! Jeez, can't I even give myself a break? And what's with you having to cause me a headache with all this time travel shii… stuff? I mean, as if life isn't complicated enough, and fooling around with strange English verb tenses isn't pointless enough, you've gotta go and re-write the rules on grammar and…"

He carried on, completely rambling almost incoherently for what felt like hours. Everyone else, including his older self, could only stare at him, surprised at how pissed off he seemed to be, for no reason except being blamed by himself.

"Huh," the older one interrupted when the young on paused for a breath. "Do I always do that?"

The Paige from the past pat his shoulder for some reason as she responded, "Nope, his ranting is much more widespread. You just rant at us about vanquishing demons all day long. Very one-track."

The young man arched an eyebrow down at her and sniped sarcastically, "Gee, thanks."

But Paige was ignoring the comment as she looked down at the shoulder she had pat, eyes narrowed slightly. "You're shaking. Why are you shaking?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm not shaking," he replied defensively, pulling his arm away.

"Yes, you are. And you're extremely pale. And you look like you're going to be sick," the young Paige continued, giving him that same suspicious look, though there was obvious concern underneath.

"_Well, how do you expect me to act?"_ he suddenly demanded in a raised voice, a mask of anger trying to cover up the storm of emotions that suddenly howled to life as the rest of reality came crashing down on him. "I just came from a future where every person in this room is tortured to death _for me_! I just found out I was using dark magic _yet again_! I just found out my _parents _from the past know I'm their _son _that they totally abused! And now I'm talking to an innocent version of _myself _who has _no idea _of the hell he's about to go through and I can't tell him anything about how to stop it or else I'll never make the decision to go to the past to change _everything _I've ever known! So, Paige, please tell me, if you were in my position, wouldn't you be _a little _shaken up, too?"

Yet again, everyone in the room was staring at him, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, at a complete loss for what to say. Paige of the past blinked a few times.

Well, then. She knew that she and Chris bickered at each other just a bit more than her other sisters, but she'd never seen _this _Chris get _this _angry, or reveal so much future information at one time. So, needless to say, it was unfamiliar territory and she had no idea what to say that wouldn't hurt or anger him further.

Luckily, Piper impeded just in time. "Why don't we all sit down and just… get our bearings, okay? This is a hard time for everyone and we all need to just stop and take a breather." When nobody immediately protested, the mother turned to her big sister and asked with the air of a woman with direction, "Prue, could you please turn that table back over and get the chairs, too?"

Prue nodded, seeing that it wasn't her place to take charge, and telekinetically righted their table and chairs, which had been overturned in the older Chris'… _episode_, for lack of a better word. The family and FU team all sat down in the nearest chairs and Chris walked over to the chair between Cole and Victor, having unconsciously stood up from his previous seat during his impassioned rant. He sat down, shoulders tired, eyes downcast, and with a heavy sigh. Whatever potion he had been injected with made his mind a lot more capable of dealing with the obvious facts he was faced with-- like the fact that he was more likely to be in the past rather than in the company of shape shifters that just so happened to act exactly like his real family. Just so happened to have their powers. He also believed he was dealing with the fact that Piper and Leo from the past knew who he was and what they had done rather well, too. At least he wasn't going into denial like he had done when they came to the… Wow. He could remember what his seventeen year old self had gone through concerning this event… that was weird, seeing as it was just now happening when it had really happened almost two year ago for him… That was really weird. That seventeen year old sitting on the other side of Cole really was him, living what he'd already lived two years ago for the first time. Did he mention how extraordinarily freaky this was?

He had to shake that notion off, too, as it began to give him an even worse migraine and his mother was starting to talk again.

She was sitting directly across from him and looking directly at him as she spoke. "Alright, now, I think you have quite a bit of explaining to do, young man." -- At this, the alleged twenty-two year old noticed his young counterpart shiver and had to suppress a similar action and smirk, himself. Piper noticed. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What?"

The older answered, deciding to cut his younger self a break. He remembered how hard and confusing it had been, meeting his mother from the past and discovering why she had done the things she'd done… "Do you have any idea how weird that sounds coming from you to me?"

Piper glared at him, but not in hate. "I'm starting to get an idea," she said dryly, and continued with passion, "Why didn't you tell us, though? Anything! I mean, we would have at least trusted you…! Well… if you'd said the right thing in the right way, we would have given it a thought… actually…" her voice trailed off, moment of assuredness dissipating quickly as she realistically considered what would have happened if a stranger came through a strange portal claiming to be her unborn, abused second son trying to stop his big brother, her little angel, from becoming the very source of all evil. Yeah… now that she thought about it, she realized how crazy that would have sounded. She probably would have blown his ass to the dark side of the moon for even suggesting such a thing.

The older Chris smirked wryly at her, sensing her thoughts unintentionally with his aunt's telepathy. "Yeah, that would be more accurate. So you see why my way was _much _better."

"What would be more accurate?" questioned the Paige of the future, looking between them as if trying to use telepathy, too, even though she didn't have it. "What way? What on earth is going on here? How do you know this Piper-- she's from a time before you're even born! And how do _you _know _him _when you probably won't even be pregnant for another few months? Come on, answers, people, I want answers!"

The ones from the past shared looks, debating how much to disclose, when voices suddenly exploded in the eighteen year old's head. Voices of people begging. People dying. …The voices from the people in New Nirvana.

He cringed, despite his best effort not to, as their dying pleas echoed deafeningly inside his head. He screwed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table tightly, trying to push them back down, like Bianca-- oh God, Bianca…-- had instructed him. It took what seemed like forever to fight them back until he gained enough control to actually hear what was going on in the real world over them. As the pain began to fade, he could hear the family's tone of voice first, but couldn't make out the words. Then, as he opened his eyes and made his doubled vision back into single, he could distinguish their faces and voices clearly.

They were concerned, asking what was wrong, what was going on, but he could also see and feel their apprehension and even… fear. His using dark magic must have really scared them… And now they feared a relapse, as everyone always did that had seen him lose it. He sighed inwardly and looked back up at them. "Nothing, just… nothing. What were you saying?"

"Um… we were just about to explain how you had come to our time when you went sort of rigid and Future Phoebe over there sensed a lot of pain and chaos coming from your mind," said the young Paige, looking concerned and slightly anxious. "What was going on?"

Chris shot her a look and was about to repeat what he'd said about it being nothing when Leo interrupted, hitting it right on the money. "You were hearing voices, weren't you?" When Chris stared at him, taken aback and reticent, he elaborated, "A while ago, when you were… kind of psychotic… you were trying to get voices out of your head."

At this, Chris blushed furiously, catching Leo's meaning loud and clear. Still blushing with that strange sort of shame, he asked awkwardly, "I was bashing my head against a wall or something, wasn't I?"

Leo nodded uncomfortably, not able to meet his son's eyes. Piper, seeing the 'twenty-two' year old's weird shame at his behavior, said gently, "Sweetheart, judging from what you said you've gone through, you acted better than anyone else would have. You really weren't that out of it…"

At this the older Chris had to laugh, though it was harsh and his face was still flushed with that same ignominy. "Weren't that out of it?" he echoed in a shaky, but convinced tone. _"Please_. Wyatt's shown me what I'm like when I lose it. I had to be worth at least a dozen lobotomies and a straightjacket. Now can we just forget it and get going?"

"Not until someone tells us what the heck is going on!" said the future Phoebe, looking just as irritated at being left in the dark as Paige. "Now, why did you go to the past, Chris?" she asked sternly, looking at the older one.

He looked right back at her and said in challengingly simple tones, "To stop my brother from becoming a megalomaniac freak, _Phoebe_."

Phoebe, Paige, Cole, Henry, Victor, and everyone from his Resistance team gaped at him, shocked. There was a heartbeat's length of this stunned silence before the exclamations and protests broke out, and break out they did.

"What! How could you screw with the past that much?" -- Andre

"Do you have any idea how much you could inadvertently change? That's way too dangerous to chance!" -- Cole

"In 2004? You could cause yourself or your cousins to cease to exist!"-- Phoebe (future)

"Good Lord! Is that even possible?" -- Victor

"All I gotta say is if you're going to do that, you'd better change your wardrobe, 'cause they would vanquish you on the spot, going in there lookin' like one bad-ass gothic demon-boy," snorted Joden in reference to Chris', indeed, rather punk-goth look.

"Wow…" said Paris thoughtfully, examining him as though intrigued.

"Hmm…" Bianca, also thoughtful, eyes clouded and narrow in thought.

"Holy f… (author cuts off last of word)" -- Henry

"Oh my God, Chris-- how could you just decide to change everything? What if you just make things worse?" -- Prue, quieter than most.

"No way! What if you cause us to marry the wrong people? What if you cause the demons we vanquished to come after us at the wrong place and we die? What if you cause our kids to not even exist!" -- Paige (future) looking horrified at the last thought.

The young Chris remained silent throughout it all, and the older Chris knew that he already knew. The young one was just going to log the information and possibility away in his mind and only come back to it as a last resort. He still had so much going for him. He still had this family, these friends… his innocence… He wasn't ready to change it all.

"Paige," the older Chris said, snapping back into his immediate concern-- talking to the adults and getting them off his case. He slipped his smart ass mask back on. "Do you really want your kids to grow up in this world?-- Hold on-- wait-- Nevermind! They won't even get the chance to grow up at all if I don't change this! They are going to be brutally tortured to death in a few months' time and there's no other way in the world you can stop that!"

Complete. And utter. Silence.

A few people blinked, taken aback. Others just stared. The eighteen year old sighed inwardly yet again. Okay, so maybe revealing that particular fact like that wasn't the best way to go about getting their approval or even consent. And people said he had tact…

As their stares gradually became dreaded sort of inquiring looks, the young man bowed his head, fiddling with his fingers. They wanted more details, so they might be able to stop it. They wanted him to open up to them. He could feel it, and it was emanating from every single person in the room, which made the overall urge to comply overwhelming.

Still not looking up, the young man intoned quietly, "Every person in this room… and their children… are all tortured to death by Wyatt. Everyone except me, Bianca, Leo, and Grandpa. But… they get killed eventually, too… Everyone except me…" he ended even quieter so that even Cole and Victor had a difficult time hearing it.

Again there was silence. When, at length, it became unbearable, Phoebe from the future clarified softly, "So… my oldest nephew is going to kill us all?"

Chris began to nod, but stopped, eyes glazing over. Wyatt wasn't the one that sentenced Leo to an eternal life in damnation… And, to be honest, he couldn't remember if Victor was killed by lung cancer or a demon. He remembered it had happened in one of the last hospitals in existence… but demons attacked those sometimes, too. And Chris had kind of been psycho at the time so his memory of that event wasn't exactly coherent…

"Chris, sweetheart?" came Piper's concerned voice.

He instantly switched back into the moment and out of his thoughts. Phoebe had half-asked if Leo, Bianca, and Victor had been killed by Wyatt… Leo… Oh boy. He grinned, still not quite looking up to meet their querying gazes. Then he tried to stifle a small chuckle that fought to the surface. At their confused feelings, he answered Phoebe's half-question. "Um…" another grin and suppressed chuckle. "--No. Wyatt…" small laugh. "Wyatt didn't… didn't kill…" there was a peel of laughter here, completely confusing and shocking his family and friends. But he couldn't help it. "He didn't k-kill L-L-Leo…" Burst of laughter here, and he gasped in between, "Oh--my--God! I can't-- b-b-believe I'm-- _laughing _about-- about this!" But he couldn't stop. He had killed all the Elders in the only way possible-- with dark magic. And he had killed his own father permanently-- twice, however that worked. He had seriously killed his own father and was laughing about it.

He was going to Hell for this…

And he was still laughing.

Looking completely baffled at what could be funny about his death, Leo queried uneasily, "Chris… then how… _did_… I die?"

Chris snorted slightly at the memory. He had been completely out of his mind. _Completely_. Noticing again that people were staring at him, waiting for an answer, he half-heartedly stifled another laugh and answered, smirking provocatively, "Can't. Future consequences."

Everyone in the room glared at him, but his younger self looked intrigued, as if he was already putting some pieces together and asking for the rest. The older found himself unable to resist that look. On a whim, he recalled the memory to the front of his mind and locked eyes with the young one. He sent the memory forward, directly into the young one's mind.

The memory went something like this:

_A seventeen or eighteen year old stood among white pillars and floor-clouds, the heavens around him practically spinning from his shock and sense of surrealism. But the bodies didn't move. The dead, burned, already decaying bodies of the good overseers of the world, also known as Elders. _

"_Oh my God," whispered the memory Chris, surveying the devastation with wide, horrified eyes. "I killed… killed… the… _Elders_. I killed them _all_…" He slowly sank to the ground and breathed, "Oh my God…"_

_There was a faint groan from behind one of the council benches and a moment later, a disheveled Leo lifted himself painstakingly onto an elbow and into eyesight. Chris caught the movement and his entire demeanor changed. With a look of complete and utter rage and hatred, he conjured an energy ball, intensified it with a quick bit of dark magic, and hurtled it at his father with a yell of fury. The man was instantly incinerated into a pile of ashes on the ground. Chris glared at it for a moment before clearing his throat and shifting back into his previous position of having sunk to the ground in horror. "Excuse me," he stated to himself, cleared his throat again, and resumed the horrified, shocked, and devastated expression, and finished, "Oh my God, _now _I've killed all the Elders…"_

The young Chris stared at him, clearly shocked and astonished. Then he burst out laughing, managing between peels, "You _didn't! _Oh God, I'm going to Hell because of you, now! _Shit_…"

Slowly his laughter died down and the two Chris-es pointedly ignored the sudden questions that were thrown at them about what had happened and what was going on between them. Instead, the young Chris took a different direction and said to himself, "You remember what happened today with me, don't you?" When his older self nodded, suddenly looking slightly suspicious, the young one resumed, "Then you'll remember that it actually wasn't Leo's fault for his actions. And if he changed and was all 'I'll try to be better, now, and make up for it' why would you still--"

"Oh, in about thirty minutes flat, he's going to be totally obsessing over getting your trust back," the alleged twenty-two year old informed him dismissively, seeing where he was going. "Since the war is going so badly, the Elders need all the help they can get so they need him back up there with them, not down here trying to talk sense into the 'unruly' son. Therefore, in about three weeks for you, they decide it's for the greater good just to give him his old attitude back."

While the older Chris informed them of this rather lightly, as if it didn't matter to him, they knew it did because of his younger self's crestfallen, hurt expression. "They make him an abusive bastard again?" the seventeen year old asked sadly at the same instant Leo groaned in similar tones,

"They make me an abusive bastard again?"

The senior Chris shrugged. "Eh. It really was easier for both the Elders and me. And it's not like we saw each other on a regular basis, anymore, anyway, so it didn't matter. Anyhow, we really gotta get going. The Elders from your time are probably having multiple heart attacks by now just waiting for us." He paused and his eyes narrowed at the ones from the past. "You _did _get it, didn't you?"

They nodded quickly, but Phoebe from the past groaned and leaned over to hug her seventeen year old nephew. "But I don't wanna leave," she complained, ignoring the stiff glare the young Chris was sending her. "I like this Chris so much better than you."

The older Chris openly gaped at her. For a moment, he merely spluttered soundlessly, then abruptly collected himself. With a cool expression, he stated quite calmly, "If we don't leave, now, we are all going to have to help these poor souls fend off a giant, demonic green mass that is oozing its way here as we speak." When the past Phoebe looked less than convinced, his eyes narrowed again and he added dangerously, "And it will permanently stain your new shoes."

The young Phoebe's eyes went wide and she jumped to her feet. "Okay, then, I think I've had enough futuristic family reunions for one day," she said while ushering her bemused past-family to their feet as well. "Let's get back to the past and save my nephew! Or… nephews… whatever."

As the ones from the past gathered their things together, the future Phoebe stated with a grim smile, "You thinking about helping us out with the demon with no name?"

Older Chris grinned. "It's next on my list. And for the record, I still vote on naming it 'The Blob'."

Paige of the future snorted. "Are you kidding? After that old movie with the killer blob of jell-o or whatever?"

"You should know, seeing as you were the one to show it to me."

"_And you liked it?"_ she demanded incredulously, but there was a hint of laughter in her eyes.

"Are you kidding me? No story line, crappy acting, dorky costumes and special effects-- it was the best movie ever!" he commended brightly, even though he felt anything but bright and playful. He missed this. Missed bantering with _his _Aunt Paige. Sure, they didn't really know where to start with each other when they were alone, but in company… When there were people there and they couldn't talk about the things that had come between them so long ago… it was fun.

There was silence which was only disturbed by a confused Logan's plead for attention. The young Chris instantly saw and pulled the toddler onto his lap, using his aunt Paige's new power of conjuring to orb some letter-cube-block thingies for him to play with. There was relative silence after that, too. Nobody wanted to have to be the one to break it, though, because they knew the next words would have to involve the ones from the past leaving.

"You guys know how much I hate long goodbyes," said Future Phoebe at length with a sigh, getting to her feet and going over to the already standing ones from 2004. She held out her arms and hugged them each. "So let's just leave it at 'see ya later', okay?"

The ones from the past agreed immediately. Then the other 'see ya later'-s came. The sisters, Leo, and Chris from 2004 endured hugs from the future Phoebe, Paige, Victor, Prue, Henry, Cole, Paris, and Andre. They had to go to the young Chris personally if they wanted a goodbye. Which they all did.

"Why can't you be more like this you?" Paige complained to her whitelighter as she latched onto the young counterpart, who narrowed his eyes at the contact. "He _actually _smiles, you know!"

The older one rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. If I smiled while ordering you on a demon hunt, you'd say I was laughing at you and you'd hate me even more-- not to mention refuse to go on the hunt."

Paige considered that statement as she reluctantly removed herself from the young one and gave Piper and Leo their chance. The others, seeing this awkward moment coming up, hastily began moving in a huddle out of obvious earshot. When the older Chris smirked and made to leave as well, the young one glared at him and mouthed sternly, _'Get back here!'_

The elder one just gave him an innocent look and involved himself in the remaining Charmed Ones' conversation about how they'd get back. His young self scowled, but quickly changed his expression to a neutral one as Piper and Leo sat down on either side of him and began silently requiring his attention by trying to meet his eyes. He was then hard put to keep it neutral…

"Chris…" Piper began after a moment of silence, clearly not sure what to say now that she was speaking. She hesitated a minute before resuming. "You know… you can always come to our time if you ever want to talk. It doesn't matter if you have to erase our memories afterwards, as long as we can help…"

Young Christopher arched an eyebrow and remarked dryly, "Huh. Don't get an offer like that everyday."

The parents smiled, not quite knowing what to say. What was there to say? They had already apologized, they had already sworn to change this… If they upheld their oaths, technically this Chris would never exist, so they would never have to counsel him in the first place…

"Don't worry about me," the young one said softly after another stretch of silence. He smiled faintly as he motioned at his future counterpart, who really was involved in the discussion several paces away, and said, "As you can see by him, I'll be fine. Or… as fine as the insane can be, at least."

The two adults smiled again, and were quiet once more. For a while, the three merely glanced around, casting about for something else to say, coming up with nothing. Time seemed to drag by, when the people in the little group discussing what course to take looked up. They had apparently decided on a solution.

Piper sighed and finally turned her gaze back to Chris, who met it unceratinly. "I guess it's time to go, peanut," she said gently and, ignoring his confusion and amusement at being called a peanut, pulled him into a soft embrace. The young one tensed immediately at the contact, but after a while, he allowed himself to relax in it… kinda sorta.

At length Piper pulled away and looked at him with teary eyes, then went to stand with her sisters and half-witch-half-whitelighter whitelighter. Leo paused a moment, giving his seventeen year old son a moment to recover before he, too, went to hug him. The younger teen resigned himself to the embrace and vaguely wondered if he would ever accept this kind of affection from these people. And since they weren't exactly showering his older self in hugs and kisses, he couldn't tell.

"Be safe," Leo murmured as he pulled back and looked his son in the eye, making the look portray all his paternal feelings of caring love. This, Chris also met uncertainly. He nodded, feeling emotions of his own turning and bubbling in ways he'd never felt before, or anticipated. He swallowed them back and watched as the blonde man joined the past Charmed Ones, taking his wife's hand in his and meeting her still glittering eyes.

Future Phoebe handed her past self a piece of torn paper, which obviously had a spell written on it. The sisters of the past pulled together and chanted it while the future Chris and Leo said goodbye with their eyes to the assembled family of the future. The spell was finished and the young Charmed Ones glanced up one last time before the five disappeared in a breezy explosion of white and gold.

------------------

The Charmed Ones, Leo, and Chris found themselves hurtling backwards in a rush of white and gold, almost like with the time remote. They looked around, finding all very familiar but unexpected.

"Okay…" voiced Paige with a slight grimace. "Didn't quite want the spell to work like this…"

Meanwhile, Piper and Leo were staring at Chris as if plotting all the questions they were going to throw at him and Phoebe was subtly trying to place herself between them, nervous for her nephew's mental health. Chris noticed and had to smile at that. She really didn't change that much in the future.

"You sent me to Valhalla," Leo finally said, watching for Chris' reaction.

It was to roll his eyes. "Duh."

He would at least let them ask their questions, seeing as he was going to erase their memories anyway, and this way his conscience would be a bit lighter, knowing he had told them. He smirked as he mentally added: It was _their _problem if they couldn't remember.

"You know," said Phoebe, still moving to get herself between the parent-son trio. "This may seem really random, but you never told us why that teacher that announced your band hated you."

Chris stared at her, secretly thanking her for that weird subject change. "Yes, that did seem really random." At her pointed look, he smiled instead of smirked and answered, to their collective surprise. "She had a daughter who was, like, five years younger than me and the girl had a crush on me. When I… _failed to encourage her_… her mother, needless to say, felt it her responsibility to hate me and fail me in her class, along with a lot of other wonderful things."

"That's not fair," Piper immediately protested, indignant on his behalf.

Chris snorted. "Yeah, if life were to suddenly _get _fair, I doubt it would have happened in high school."

They all had to chuckle at that. However, the reasonable amount of time they could pass the comment off as funny was gone in no time. So, gradually, their smiles had to fade and the comfortable silence became… uncomfortable. As Chris looked down at his _fascinating _shoes, he got the impression that this awkward silence was only foreshadowing the many, many to come. … if he were to allow them their memories.

He sighed heavily as the time trip slammed to a halt (and they all miraculously managed to stay on their feet). If he was going to do this, he had to do it now, before he lost his resolve and capitulated to the prospect and possibility of having an actual family. He had to. For the greater good. For the future. For… himself. For the first time he could remember, the _only _solution was the easy way out.

"Chris?" Piper's voice intruded on his thoughts, forcing him into the moment rather abruptly.

He glanced up at her, not questioningly. He didn't want to know what she had been saying. He just wanted to look at her one last time while she knew who he was… while she still held love in her eyes… love for him. Though her expression was somewhat funny, not knowing why he was staring at her with tears welled in his eyes, he wanted to burn this into his memory forever. Hold on to it forever…

And, without a word, without breaking their locked gazes, he placed two fingers gently to his mother's temples… and erased her the alluded memory. And replaced it with a different, sorter recollection.

…_The Phoenix Assassin holds the dagger to Piper's throat with a cold, cocky, "You were saying?"_

"_Wow, she is good," comments Phoebe…_

_Paige takes a step towards Piper and Bianca interrupts with, "Uh-uh. I can kill her in half the time it takes you to even think about it." …_

_Paige retorts, "Yeah? We still have enough potion to vanquish you."_

…"_Maybe. But then you really will have to hope the power of two will do," Bianca glances over at Paige, finishing, "won't you, Paige? You'd be surprised what's in the history books. Now put the vials down slowly."_

"_Bianca don't. Let her go and I promise I'll go with you," Chris tries to draw the attention back to him and away from his charges…_

…"_Chris, what are you doing?" demands Paige, looking incredulous._

_Chris ignores her. "If you kill her there won't be a future for either of to go back to and you know it."_

"_What are you talking about?"-- Phoebe…_

…"_You'll see if you live long enough," Bianca answers, walking back over to Chris and taking his hand. Together, they move to the wall._

_Hastily, Paige exclaims, "Piper, freeze them!"_

_Piper tries, but the Chris controlling the memory allows the small revelation of his wiccan-ness be known. His memory self doesn't freeze. _

"_Uh, okay, I get why she didn't freeze, but why didn't he freeze?" Piper demands, taken aback._

…"_I don't-- Unless he's a--" Phoebe stammers._

"_I'm a witch, too?" Chris suggests, halfheartedly. "That's right. Part witch, part whitelighter. Just like you, Paige."…_

"_You lied to us?" -- Paige…_

"_I had to. It was the only way I could get you to trust me."_

…"_Trust you?" Phoebe repeats, incredulous._

"_Nevermind. It doesn't matter anyway…"_

_Piper: "So that's it? You're just gonna leave?"_

…_Chris looks slightly frustrated as he snaps, "I don't have a choice. She stripped my powers. Looks like Leo's gonna have to fix that floorboard without me." The part about the floorboard kind of came out of nowhere, but the Chris controlling the memory was developing the rest of the plan in the memory even as he thought so. Then, to Bianca, his false memory self said, "Let's go."_

… The alleged twenty-two year old watched, fingers to his soon-to-be mother's temples, as she lived for the first time going through with her sisters about how to get him back from his fiancée's clutches, figuring out his floorboard clue and writing a spell to get him his powers back. Her cinnamon eyes were closed gently, fluttering faintly as though during REM. The others in the room had quickly followed his mother into this form of sleep as soon as he began creating the new memory. As he looked at them now, he felt his heart clench in protest. This wasn't right, altering their minds. Not only would they eventually figure it out (generally because he had forgotten to add anything about the artifact the Elders had wanted… maybe he'd erase the Elders' memories, too), he would have this on his conscience every moment he saw them, always wondering what it would have been like if he let them keep those moments he had erased.

Ah, well. What's done is done. He had to remind himself that it was better this way. He couldn't let all those emotions get in the way of his mission. _Couldn't_.

At length, he sighed and removed his fingers. According to their memories, he already come hurtling through the portal back into this time period, and they were at the part where Phoebe was expressing her sorrow at Bianca's death.

"Me, too," Chris said softly as they opened their eyes, having no recollection of doing anything but blinking. He shifted uncomfortably. Damn guilt. "So… you guys still alright with me hanging around here?"

There was hesitation as they all shared glances. For a moment, Chris inwardly panicked, wondering if the memory he'd chosen for them was still too much, wondering if he should have skipped to the part where they said it was fine… then Leo answered, laying his fears to rest.

"Absolutely. The next time you're in trouble, you gotta tell us. Trust works both ways."

Chris could deal with that answer and nodded slightly, unable to describe in any of the languages he knew how relieved he was. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. "Okay," he agreed.

------

Moments later, as the girls headed to their rooms for showers and (de)accessorizing, Chris found himself walking by Wyatt's playpen and catching the young boy's eye. He paused for a moment, holding that gaze and feeling the same connection he had with his brother, before their bond was broken. It wasn't at the point it had been at during their height, but it was enough to read emotions and intentions, and Chris knew the toddler understood what it meant, no matter his young age. Wyatt had always been smart.

The teenager leaned against the doorway, not breaking the gaze, not feeling the need to. It was his brother, as weird as that was. It was still the one who had murdered his fiancée only hours ago. And this little Wyatt felt something of that, too. But he was innocent, now…

Still looking down at his little older brother, Chris slowly shook his head. _Weird_.

And all he could say before he walked away was, "_Damn._"

**The End**

**A/N: One last page, to either answer reviews or maybe an epilogue. And I think after finishing MY FIRST EVER STORY, I deserve a review from everyone who reads it, right? If you read this in 2010, even, I don't care-- REVIEW!**


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